Heart of Darkness
by 19James92
Summary: Nine years after the conclusion of Inheritance, an ancient evil rises in Alagaesia, shattering the peace. Will Eragon return with the next generation of riders? CAN he return, and what are the implications? ExA.
1. A New Beginning

**Summary: **Nine years after the conclusion of Inheritance, an ancient evil rises in Alagaesia. When word reaches Eragon and Saphira while they train with the first generation of free riders, choices have to be made.

**Author's Disclaimer: **The major romance of this fic will be Eragon and Arya as implied by the characters and genre, however it won't be immediate in fulfilment or simple in execution. I don't believe that a simple 'kiss and make up' situation would work for these two complicated characters. However, having said that, it will happen, and there will be scenes/snippets to 'tease' or whet your appetite.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own the non-original characters or places from this story. They are owned by Christopher Paolini, author of the Inheritance Cycle. This is merely my interpretation of what may have happened after the events of Book 4 (Inheritance).

**A/N:** This is my first fan-fic, and really my first attempt at a serious piece of writing. Give it a chance, the first chapter (more of a prologue) is a bit short and slow, but it picks up in both quality and quantity.

* * *

Sailing for weeks, they had navigated the unknown waters of the world. They had seen many islands, both small and large. None, however compared to the sprawling mass that lay forward of the bow of the graceful ship. Plains and mountain ranges peppered the land, so reminiscent of their lost home.

One range - higher than others clearly visible in the distance - faced the ocean. A stretch of land a few kilometres across separated the highest and lowest points of the island.

"What are your thoughts Shadeslayer?" Blodhgarm said quietly, sidling up to Eragon.  
They had grown to respect and admire each other in the weeks following their departure from Alagaesia. Supporting each other through the pain, sharing encouragement for the future ahead; they had worked together in making decisions regarding the growth of the riders. However, it was always left to Eragon to make the final choice. He was the lead rider, after all.

"The mountains are certainly large enough, though they cannot compare to the Beors in Alagaesia. I'll find out what Saphira thinks," he replied, gazing upon the snow capped peaks before him, mentally contacting the partner of his mind and soul, the queen of the dragons, blue as both the sky and sea.

_We shall see little one; our journey may be at an end _she said after a moment, projecting the last of her thoughts to the rest of the ship.

The elves smiled as one. As if sensing their joy, the Talita's speed increased, the clean lines of a swan gliding across the water, although no men, elves nor dwarves assisted her propulsion.

_Yes Saphira, I think we could be home!_, Eragon sighed, contemplating the years of work ahead of them, and the pain they had left behind.

* * *

Nine years later...

* * *

Visions came to Eragon amongst his waking dreams.

Visions of places he had once seen, things he had once done, and people he once knew.  
Details were different though, it was not as he remembered

He was hunting in the spine, yet his speed and grace was that of an elf. He did not desire deer nor rabbit, but herbs and plants not found on his farm. And when he returned, it was not Roran, Garrow, or Brom that waited for him; but a tall woman, radiant as the sun, smiling as he approached. Arya.

The scene changed, and again, Eragon saw events of his life, altered and changed as he was, as the world was following the return of the riders. Always Arya was there. Arya that he had known, loved, and left behind.

Once more, the scene changed, but this felt different, this felt real. Emerald flames in the night, hot as a furnace. Metal crashing against metal, accurate, precise. Booming out into the darkness time after time. The scene looked familiar, sounded familiar, even the smell, the scents of pine mingled with ash and molten steel. It was all vaguely familiar, yet he could not make out the two shadowy figures in the dark.  
Inexplicably he knew, this clash to steel was not destroying, but creating something anew, giving rise to a fresh start. What that meant he did not know. Then the green flames ceased and all light was extinguished.

* * *

Eragon rose from his waking dreams, rested yet sore. A dull ache resonated from his heart as it did every morning, the dreams a reminder of a past he could not go back to. He sat in his simple bed, the only intricacy the wooden frame. It was carved with images and words, telling of a land that had been left in peace, finally at rest after years of war.  
He glanced around the sparse room, pushing memories aside as he admired the space he had created.  
Plain wooden panels concealing the heavy stone of the tower walls. Numerous fairths of various subjects, surrounding a great mirror rimmed with gold leaf. A fairth of each of those dearest to him. Roran, his family by his side. Brom, the glint of fire in his eyes as he shared memories of the riders of old. Murtagh, the intensity of battle clear in the concentration of his face.  
One fairth was larger than the rest, and more detailed by far. A blue dragon, fire spewing from her jaws, breaking the crystal star within the dwarven stronghold Farthen Dur, an elven princess riding on her back, green magic cast about her. The fairth radiated power and care. The two beings he was closest to, helping him become who he was meant to be. Eragon Shadeslayer, Kingkiller, and now Leader of the Riders.

As he walked through the passages of the tower, steeling himself for the review of the morning's training, Eragon reflected on the past nine years. Since arriving at their new home, work had been earnest to restore the riders to their glory.  
He gazed out through the sizeable windows and watched the plains, teeming with life of all kinds, the backdrop of the daunting ocean ensuring any visitors would be seen long before they landed.  
Merely days after the Talita had landed on the shore, wild dragons had begun to hatch from their eggs. Despite Eragon's protests the hatchlings grew lazy and complacent from the abundance of curious animals not yet wary of the powerful beasts.  
Saphira fixed that problem quickly enough.  
Blodhgarm and the elves had come running at the sound of her roaring at the overly large and satisfied dragons before her. The wild dragons had quickly fled, and when they multiplied, they raised their young reminding them of the pride in hunting. Saphira was not a dragonness to unduly anger.  
She and Eragon had seen the wild ones from time to time, as the heroes flew or walked over the entirety of the island, mapping each of its parts with great attention to detail.

The completed map of the island was etched into the floor of the great hall of the complex, where the riders and their mentors trained and learnt the secrets of the races.  
The great stone blocks of the hall's foundation had taken weeks to move from the plains to the castle. Even with energy from the Eldunari, the elves and Eragon, Saphira had been unable to lift them in any meaningful way. She simply was not strong enough, which frustrated her to no end.  
One morning, the sun had flashed off one of her brilliant blue scales as her muscles flexed around the unyielding boulder and Eragon was reminded of a time long ago, a time before he knew of magic, before a brilliant blue flash had changed his life.

From then on, they had transported the blocks up the mountain with magic, just as Arya had moved Saphira's egg to an unsuspecting farm boy. The energy toll to move the blocks was enormous, and exhausted the reserves of power in many of the eldunari. However, with time, preparation, and rest they were able to build a citadel to rival that in Ilirea. When finished, the great hall was immense, large enough to contain a thunder of dragons with ease. A cave in the mountain had been expanded and diverted to the hall, allowing Dragon access from the top. Nonetheless the gates were sufficiently large to fit all and any dragon. The quarters of the riders were higher up, laced across the mountainside, designed so that all may have a view of the ocean; all the accomodation containing balconies for the Dragons.  
Each corridor was unique in its decoration. As members of each race had arrived, the corridors had been decorated with references to each culture and civilisation. No race's culture was preferred over another, save that of the Dragons, the fiercest, proudest and oldest of all.

No sparring ground was to be seen, however pockets of the island showed signs of small battles. Limbs broken off trees, massive gouges in the ground, all marked the places of sparring, whether by tooth, sword or mind. Eragon wished that his students become accustomed to fighting in unfamiliar and different environments, and taught them as such.

It had been a long seven years before Eragon was content with the construction and layout of the island. He had laboured over the new home for the riders, ensuring all were represented equally. He himself did not have a bigger room than others, in fact, in no way was he represented above the others. They were all riders, and would be treated as such, barring the extra respect shown in classes to Blodhgarm, Eragon and the elves, the young riders mentors.  
Finally, Eragon had named the island Evarinya Mor'ranr, meaning simply, "Star of Peace". For the dragons shone like a star, and there would be peace for all to flourish under the riders.


	2. Wyrda

As Eragon entered the great hall, he could see three apprentice riders rising from their positions, clearly shaken by the mental prowess of Blodhgarm. He had been testing their ability to fight with their minds as Eragon had deemed it paramount for each apprentice to learn to guard his mind and fight with it. The secrets of the riders were much to important to be idly taken from an unwary mind.

Eragon was sure Blodhgarm would not have been cruel to the apprentices, nor gazed into their past; but they were still unnerved by his alien mind. The two dwarf riders, Verdra and Godok, were supporting each other as they stood.

Verdra had arrived at the beginning of the second year of peace, her silver dragon Ilumeo bringing much joy to all.  
Only 23 years old Verdra had said little about her past, and had refused to answer questions about her upbringing or life before becoming a rider. Eragon had yet to glean why Ilumeo had chosen the ancient word for truth as a name, however he did not push either dragon or rider for answers.  
Instead, Orik had vouched for Verdra's bravery, and dwarven magicians had sworn of her trueness of heart. And she did indeed work tirelessly with Ilumeo to better herself individually and as a pair, dragon and dwarf. Neither dragon nor dwarf were particularly gifted in any one area, however they made up for it with consistency in all their studies and sparring styles.

Eragon's gaze shifted to the other dwarf, Godok, an angry young male in his mid 30s. Despite all his efforts, and that of his dragon Jonkirn, Godok struggled with many simple tasks and grew frustrated at his lack of competency, even after 5 years under Eragon's tutelage.

The only Urgal, or non dwarven rider, to arrive at Evarinya Mor'ranr was Dazhgra, a shaman from the Urgal Bolvek tribe. He and his female dragon had arrived a mere month later than Verdra, just as the foundations of the castle had been completed. The massive charcoal dragoness Morrkan had surprised the residents of the island by swooping down from the clouds, glistening with water droplets and roaring in glee at the sight of fellow riders and dragons. Dazhgra was a testament to the power and potential of his race, being both immensely powerful in battle, but kind and compassionate when at peace. Eragon quickly worked out who had devised the surprise dive out of the clouds, as Mor'kan was enthralled with playing harmless jokes and pranks on the other dragons.

Dazhgra's and Morrkan's basic training had fallen to Murtagh and Thorn, who had, from what Eragon had heard, finally ventured back to civilised areas within Alagaesia, even so far as to spending time with Queen Nasuada.  
Unlike Dazhgra, the dwarves and their respective dragons had been trained by Arya and Firnen. Eragon had spoken to her briefly about the idea in one of his rare conversations with her. He had thought it unwise for Murtagh to train the dwarves because of his previous actions in the war, and the dwarves continued animosity towards him and his blood-red dragon.

As Eragon approached his three students and their dragons, opening his mouth to greet them all, an elf ran up to him, speaking quietly.  
"Roran Stronghammer wishes to speak with Eragon-elda, though he would not say what he wishes to discuss"  
Surprised at the unlikely turn of events, Eragon apologised to his students for his quick departure, turned and walked from the hall.

* * *

Roran's face gazed from the many mirrors of the scrying room. The walls were adorned with the reflective glass of various shapes and sizes, allowing Eragon to conduct councils with multiple people in different places at once. So far however, he had limited contact with his home or friends, save for the briefest of brief discussions, and so the feature had gone to waste. The floor of the room was a deep maroon red. The centrepiece, and indeed highlight of the room in Eragon's opinion was the thick low table that Eragon had painstakingly made himself. A map of Alagaesia was carved into the wood, with valleys and hills represented with depth and height. The Eldunari had assisted with their knowledge of the land, but Eragon's hand had carved each and every crevice into the wood. The edges were adorned with fairths of four dragons. The likeness of Saphira, Thorn, Firnen and Glaedr was uncanny, their bodies appearing to wriggle on the inanimate table. However, the great secret of the table was an enchantment Eragon had devised himself, and told no-one save Saphira about. Whoever he spoke to within the scrying mirrors, their location would softly light up on the contours of the map carved within the table.  
He was surprised then when Roran's face revealed itself in the mirror, and the light was at the far eastern reaches of Alagaesia, not in Carvahall.

Shock evident on his features for the briefest of seconds, Eragon greeted his cousin, but fell silent when Roran declared.

"Something has come up, I need your help"

Pleasantries aside, Eragon responded, "What's wrong Roran? What has happened?"

"It's about Ismira" Roran said, his voice breaking and tears forming in his eyes, although he did not seem altogether unhappy.

Eragon was silent for a moment, allowing his cousin to continue.  
"Vanir came to Carvahall two days past, on his way to Ellesmera. He was ferrying one of the new eggs as you and Arya instructed. However the entourage accompanying him were not thrilled with being in another human village. "

Curiosity piqued, as he had not heard of the comings and goings of Alaegaesia in any great depth, aside from the few questions he had asked his apprentices on their arrival, Eragon raised a slanted eyebrow in question.

"As you are no doubt aware, a dragon has not hatched for an elf since the war, and the fair folk are significantly displeased that the 'lesser races' have been gifted Dragon Riders to train with you" Roran stated, disdain at the elves reactions clear in his voice.

"And is Arya no longer an elf?" Eragon said jokingly, although his heart burned with the memory of her.

Roran smiled grimly, "From what Vanir has said, Arya spends a fair portion of time with Firnen patrolling the land as a rider, however the elves seem to discount her as a 'true' rider due to her royal connections. Vanir also mentioned he is one among a small group of elves who are not concerned with the lack of elven riders at present"

_A dragon will not idly hatch for a rider, just because he or she is deemed to be 'fair'_Saphira snorted, clearly at a loss as to the elves concern.

"As interesting this news is, I'm not sure what this has to do with Ismira" Eragon said, not unkindly. His mind whirring through the news, trying to decipher all that he had learnt

_I think I know_Saphira hummed, but would not let Eragon glean her thoughts just yet.

"Eragon, I'd like to introd... actually I'll Ismira do it"

A little girl's face, lined with red hair poked its nose into the view of the mirror. She looked very shy. Eragon grinned at her as she brushed away a tendril of hair.  
His grin widened when her palm was visible for a second, the gedwey ignasia flashing briefly, before being hidden behind her back.

"I believe you have someone to introduce me to Ismira" Eragon smiled encouragingly at her, his newest apprentice.

"Yes Mr. Uncle Eragon Sir, this is my dragon"  
As she spoke, a small coppery dragon-head crawled over Ismira's shoulder and began nuzzling her cheek. Both girl and dragon grinned, before shyly ducking out of the frame.

Roran filled in for her,  
"Vanir was curious to see Carvahall on his return to Ellesmera to find Rider's. After all, it's the town where Brom lived for many years, and the home of Eragon Kingkiler."

"And General Roran Stronghammer" Eragon added.

"Yes, well, he came, and showed the egg to all the townsfolk, against the wishes of his companions, but nonetheless he gave all the town a chance to touch the egg. Ismira was one of the last to go, she had been playing with her brothers, and when she touched the egg... well, you can figure out the rest now"

Eragon beamed at Roran "Congratulations to you and Katrina!"  
"Thank you, we're very happy for our little girl, and the newest member of the family."

Speaking to Ismira again, who had moved back into view, Eragon said,  
"You should be very proud Ismira, it's a great privilege to become a dragon rider, and it will be an honour to meet you when you finish your training."

She beamed at the praise from the most famous of heroes, a legend even amongst her family. Here he was, the greatest of warriors, saviour of the people, and her Uncle, and it was HIS honour to meet HER? Ismira looked overwhelmed, before Roran interjected.

"Yes, well, that meeting might have to be sooner rather than later" Roran said,

"What is wrong Roran, and for that matter why are you not in Carvahall, or indeed near any town in Alagaesia?" he queried, as he glanced again at the intricate map on the table, a bright dot gleaming near the most easterly edge of the map.

"I would rather discuss that in person, away from men, dwarves, urgals... or elves. We rode here as fast as we dared, Vanir providing us with this mirror to scry you with"

Eragon's heart wrenched as he finally took in Roran's surroundings. He could never forget that place, the beach from which he was swept away from all that he knew and loved, save Saphira and the elves accompanying them.

_Little one, now is not the time to reminisce _Saphira murmured in his mind, although he could feel the pain of her losses as well.

"Ismira and I will soon cross the border out of Alagaesia on foot and shall make camp there, as there is a small stretch of beach we can make use of outside the borders. How soon could you meet us?" Roran asked, drawing Eragon's attention back to the present, realising the pain that he had brought his cousin by being in this familiar place.

_I am stronger than I was on our journey here, as you well know little one. the trip will take four days, three with the wind behind my wings._

He relayed Saphira's thoughts to Roran, who grinned at the prospect of seeing his cousin so soon.

"Please hurry then my dear brother and Saphira, I fear for my daughter's safety, they are not as pleased as they once were. Dragons and Riders may have returned, but the elves feel their strength has not" he said cryptically before Roran's face morphed into a reflection of Eragon's.

Considering all that he heard, one thing was for sure, Eragon had to speak to Arya.

* * *

Eragon had told only Saphira of the details of his conversation with Roran. Both of them had been unsure of how to react, or if to react at all; beyond meeting Roran at the Alagaesian outskirts. They had agreed that Arya needed to be consulted. After all, she was Queen of the Elven race.

Eragon's conversation with Arya - as all his correspondences had been to date - was brief and to the point.  
His pain at seeing her tore at his heart, his pain at their inevitable separation blooming once again. Keeping what Vanir had told Roran foremost in his mind, Eragon informed her of the birth of a human Dragon Rider, however he did not divulge his plans to be near Alagaesian borders, as he had been concerned at who might hear of his destination, and the location of his niece and cousin.

She was pleased to hear of the news of a new rider, but issues clearly gnawed at her mind as well. They did not share each others concerns by mutual understanding, but as she began breaking off the connection, her expression grew soft and sad.  
"I may yet have to come and visit you very shortly Eragon. Atra du evarínya ono varda" and the connection was cut.

_It is time to leave, partner of my mind _Saphira said, cutting him out of his reverie.

He pushed the memory of his talk with Arya out of his mind as he climbed onto Saphira, Blodgharm standing by, ready to assume stewardship of Evarinya Mor'ranr in their absence.

"I will return in three weeks my friend, keep the fires of both the halls and hearts alight"

_Stay safe Eragon Shurtugal, Saphira Brightscales I feel my kin of home changing, their joy to jealousy, their happiness to hunger. _Blodgharm replied in their minds, clearly wanting the comment to go unheard to anybody listening from afar.

He would say no more, so Saphira bunched her great leg muscles and leapt for the horizon, flying for the edge of Alagaesia.

And fly they did, making better progress than even Saphira expected. Within two days, they approached the Alagaesian border.

"You have grown stronger than you realise, partner of my mind.", Eragon said to her as they flew at an astounding rate towards the land which they had once called home.

_When was I ever weak, little one? _she replied with a snort, despite her pleasure at his words.

As the ocean grew shallow and narrow, and the golden sun painted the horizon the most majestic yellow, the pain in their hearts grew. They remembered a time long ago, when they had parted with those who they cared for and left on a graceful ship for far lands. The pain abated slightly as Saphira's keen sight spotted the small camp by the river bank.

_They are a long way from the safety of home_

Eragon said nothing in reply, as all the questions he and Saphira had been discussing on the trip returned to him.

_Shall we alert them to our presence?_

_No, let us surprise them_Eragon chuckled to himself as they flew overhead the campsite.

And so like an arrow of bluest blue, Saphira dived from the heavens, before pulling up and landing with an imperceptible thud. Eragon beamed at Roran and Ismira, absorbed in discussion around the fire, neither noticing the blue beast that had just landed nearby. This could be fun, Eragon thought, although in the back of his mind he worried at their lack of safety in the foreign environment.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" Eragon quipped as he approached Roran from behind. A yelp from Ismira, Roran, and the beautiful bronze dragon made Eragon laugh, as his cousin whirled on him.

A bearhug - living up to its name - rewarded his antics, and Eragon winced as he extricated himself from his cousin's grip.  
"Try not to crush me just yet Roran" he said.

"Brother, Saphira, thank you for coming so switfly, we did not expect you for another day at least" Roran's face was lined with creases but to Eragon, he looked to hold himself more regally, and with the same confidence Eragon had seen on the battlefield.  
Time as governor of Carvahall clearly suited him well, although Roran had lost none of his impressive strength.

_You should be very proud of him, I have no doubt he is a wise and strong leader, just as you are_Saphira said quietly, warming Eragon's heart.

A grin broke out on his face, as he replied to Roran, "Anything for family, Roran. Anything for family, speaking of which, where is my adorable niece", Eragon turned his gaze upon Ismira, who looked just as Katrina did once, save for her eyes, they were eerily similar to Roran's, filled with determination and care for those she loved.

As Eragon was digesting this, she curtsied at him, and then Saphira.

"Don't I get a hug? It's been nine years after all," Eragon teased.

She smiled and with some encouragement from her father, walked over to Eragon and hugged him. He gasped at her ability to crush him, just like her father.  
However he laughed when he heard a squeak of excitement from the other side of the camp.  
"Is there ANYBODY else I should be introduced to," Eragon asked, raising his eyebrows.  
Cautiously, a bronze dragon shimmering like an ingot of pure copper, padded towards them, gazing with awe at Eragon and Saphira.  
She had heard the stories-of-old-times that had been shared with his partner-of-mind, and knew that these two, two-legs and sister-kin, were the most powerful the land had known in recent times.  
Saphira lowered her snout until it was the same level as the little dragons, and blew on its face, causing the dragon to snort and dart backwards.  
"Her name is Selender" Ismira stated, pride in her voice.

_She will do _Saphira said simply to Eragon.

That was all he needed to hear, as he gazed at his niece and her new dragon, joy in his heart.

Saphira sniffed the air once, and Eragon felt foreign minds approaching them. He threw up his defenses, and looked around, seeing nothing even with his improved eyesight. Like wraiths, they appeared amongst the trees. Elegant, tall, and unmistakably; Elves. They made their intentions clear upon sighting Ismira and Roran, drawing their curved swords, snarls on their faces.

"Get behind us", Eragon whispered to the other three, as he and Saphira stepped forward.  
The elves barely seemed to notice Eragon and Saphira, as their gaze stayed resolutely fixed on the newest of riders and her dragon.

"Can I help you with anything?" Eragon queried loudly as the elves approached.

_Let me try little one_ Saphira commented, before roaring with both her mind and mouth.  
They started as they finally took in Eragon and Saphira. They twisted their hands to their chest in respect for Saphira, before unleashing war cries and bounding to attack.

When they were less than 100 feet away, Eragon shouted "Brisingr", his sword leaping from its sheath into his hand, flames alight. The elves paused in their stride, before continuing more slowly and cautiously, moving to surround the head rider.

"I do not know what drives you to attack two riders and their dragons, but I recommend you stop. My name is Eragon Bromsson, and this is my dragon Saphira Bjartskular, we mean you no harm if you leave now" Eragon said simply as the elves surrounded him.  
However, they merely smirked and continued as they were, ten around him, and two more stalking towards Ismira, Selender and Roran. They got three metres closer before Saphira's diamond hard tail slammed the two into the nearest tree.  
They dropped, lifeless.

_Shall I save you again little one? _Saphira asked with a snarl, despite trying to make light of the situation.

"We shall see" was his only response as he swept Brisingr through the armour of the elf nearest him, splitting the male in half before he had a chance to defend himself.  
The nine remaining elves roared in anger at the loss of their three companions and attacked Eragon, attempting to overwhelm his defenses.  
He was a rider though, lead rider. Experienced beyond his years. Shadeslayer and Kingkiller. As the blades approached him, he leapt, kicking two elves in their necks, momentarily stunning them. Brisingr crackled with fire as he came down behind another three, severing bones and slicing flesh with uncanny speed. Nine times he swept Brisingr in intricate patterns, and nine times, elves fell about him, departing to the void.

_You have grown little one_

_They were not as skilled as Blodgharm or our other companions back home, who I have been training with_, Eragon replied modestly, but he was pleased with her encouragement.

As the final sword tinkled as it hit the ground; the female wielder lifeless beside it, an overwhelmingly familiar roar filled the night sky, and a line of emerald green fire lit the horizon.

* * *

Despite his quickening of his heart, Eragon sent a tendril of thought towards the rider approaching, just as Saphira did to the dragon. They did not doubt that it was Arya and Firnen, but the reason for their approach and its timing were cause for some caution, as Saphira and Eragon were acutely aware of the recently deceased. Their mental probes were met with hardy resistance, a wall strong enough to deter any serious attempt at gleaning Firnen and Arya's intentions.

When the green dragon finally landed, the rider dismounting with all the grace in the world, Eragon noticed features of the two arrivals that had not been present at their last meeting. Firnen had a long scratch on his left foreleg, neither deep nor wide, but prominent nonetheless.  
Tamerlein no longer hung on Arya's belt, but a new sword, longer, thinner and a more accurate shade of Firnen's emerald scales hung from her belt.  
His eyes, full of tears and questions, gazed upon the elven queen, as she approached.  
She said nothing, but walked up to him and embraced him.

He felt her shake as she whispered, "Eragon"

"Arya" he replied, more words and any questions too difficult to muster. Any thoughts he had that she may not have approved of his actions were swept away as they held each other.  
Similarly, Saphira was purring to her mate, glad to be in his presence again, their necks intertwined.

Roran cleared his throat after a sufficiently long moment and brought them back to the present. "You have some explaining to do, Elf Queen. Twelve of your kind just introduced my daughter to violence I did not wish for her to see for many years" Roran stated as Arya and Eragon separated. Roran gestured at the dead around them as he spoke. He had ushered Ismira and Selender away as Firnen had landed, instructing them to boil some tea, ensuring the riders were between her and the trees lining the river.

A deep growl escaped from the powerful green dragon, but Arya was unperturbed, despite an angry glance at the dead.

"That I do, Roran Stronghammer, that I do. Will you allow me to show you the events that I believe lead to this abhorrent attack?"

They nodded, so she opened her mind and began to share select memories of the past years.

As Eragon had observed during his last few weeks in Alagaesia, the elves were ecstatic at the newest rider being an elf, the princess, shadeslayer and soon to be queen. They had celebrated with much joy and gladness, for Galbatorix was dead, and their race was to flourish again under the rider's rebirth.

But as Arya showed Eragon and Roran memories of the past, the seeds of discontent had begun to grow in the elves. Some argued as to why the Urgals and Dwarves received the new eggs first, when after all, the Alfakyn had been riders from the beginning, and deserved to be stronger than the other races, as had always been the case.

The complaints grew over the years, the first of the second batch of eggs bearing riders for the elves. Try as they might, none of the fairest and proudest race were considered worthy to become a dragon.

Eragon saw councils held in Ellesmera, in which senior members derided the other races (save that of the dragons) for their weaknesses in flesh and magic. With pride he saw as Arya, Dathedr, and even Vanir spoke of the strengths of the other races, and the reasons Eragon and the Eldunari had included them in the pact.

Lord Fiolr came up to Arya after one such council and suggested that she return Tamerlein, as he saw that she was no longer fit to wield it. Initially Arya resisted, until many on the council complained that she was disrespecting the dead, and indeed Rhunon, by using an altered sword and not her own rider's sword.  
Arya spoke with Rhunon, who did not share the views of the council, but after much talk, Tamerlien was returned to its owner and original state, and a new sword forged.

Eragon realised this was the vision that had cut into his dreams, and he asked Arya of the sword's name. He was also curious that Rhunon had forged a new sword through Arya, as the apprentices had been given swords of old, showing respect for their lineage and history.

"It was Rhunon's wish that a new sword be forged" Arya replied, although she did not share the name of the sword.

_It would be wise to ask the Eldunari as to why you saw the forging of the sword as you slept _Saphira told Eragon as they paused.

Roran cleared his throat again, feeling there were more important things to be said, so once more they were all consumed by Arya's memories.

More council meetings blurred through Arya's consciousness, many political points incomprehensible to Eragon.  
However, they saw recent discussions as to whether the Queen should recall all Elves from the Empire's cities so as to find a new rider. Arya had refused, and the egg had continued to travel through the human population, making its way back to Du Weldenvarden for a second trial. Eragon watched as he contacted her through the scrying mirrors, and now understood some of what had plagued her that day.

A quiet talk with Dathedr in Tialdari hall had followed the news from Eragon. Dathedr noted that a number of the elves were not happy with the lack of elvish rider's being trained.  
"And what of I? Do I not matter to the council?" Arya demanded of him, asking the question Eragon had been curious about since hearing of the elves unhappiness.

"As our queen Arya Drottning, you have made wise and strong decisions thus far. However, there is only so much one can accomplish, even with the eternal years gifted to the elves and riders. The council believe that as Queen, you cannot fulfill your responsibilities as a rider and to Firnen without the guidance and training of Eragon Shadeslayer. No being has managed two roles of such heavy burden. Galbatorix couldn't, Eragon foresaw he couldn't, and the council don't believe you are. They see you as what you are doing best, being a Queen, not their rider."

Lastly, Eragon saw Blagden land on Firnen's head as they flew above Ellesmera just before sunset, trying to escape all the politics, and cryptically croaked:

Heartbreak comes to your place of sorrow.  
Fate will reverse upon fields of blood.  
Fly swiftly now.  
Wyrda.

And flew off.  
Neither rider nor Dragon had known exactly what the white raven had meant, but they knew they must race to the border.

* * *

As Arya's memories faded, Eragon was surprised when she kept contact with his mind. Just a subtle pressure, her presence there with him. He did not speak of it, nor of what had just transpired, but smiled warmly.

Firnen approached the baby dragon as Arya listened to Eragon and Roran's specific questions regarding her memories.  
He leant down and grinned as only a dragon can. Selender snorted at Firnen, and Ismira said quietly, "He likes you"

_And I like him, however Dark times come when Elves attack hatchlings. Gaurd your hearts and minds and embrace those who love you_Firnen said to them all.

Ismira was quiet as Selender replied, _"master."_A torrent of feelings and emotions followed the single word.

"He's still learning to speak properly, he's only a week old" Ismira apologised.

_It is of no concern, I too was once a hatchling _Firnen hummed contentedly, returning to Saphira as his rider studied the dead Elves around them.

Eragon understood the queen would want silence and no interruptions from others as she deciphered the identities of their attackers.

Arya quietly rummaged through the dead elve's items. She gaped for a moment at a piece of parchment sewn into the folds of their adversaries. She did not speak of it until she had finished. Despite her calm appearance, he could feel her mind, pressed closer against his, raging at the elves around her. He did not ask what the parchment contained, although Firnen had growled quietly next to Saphira, so he had seen and understood.

"I recognise none of these elves, I have never seen them in Du Weldenvarden, and this tattoo is completely foreign to me," Arya said shortly, glancing at the tattoos on the smooth necks, previously unnoticed by Eragon. He could see a tattoo of an elf's silhouette standing atop the dead bodies of all the other two-legged races.

"Who are they then?" Roran asked.

"In short, I don't know. However they have powerful allies, and clearly didn't expect Eragon or Saphira to be here," Arya replied, before passing Eragon the parchment she had found.

The paper was clearly very old, and had been torn from a larger book or sheet of parchment. As he read it, Eragon's heart went cold with fear.

_You know what this was used for, don't you? _Arya asked in his mind, and he realised she had unintentionally communicated mentally, and not verbally.

Gathering his thoughts, Eragon refolded the slip of paper, and placed it firmly in his pocket.  
Looking at Roran's questioning face, he said  
"It's a complex and powerful spell, dark and evil magic. A spell of binding, of slavery –"

"Binding of what?" Roran interrupted. Eragon paused before continuing.

"It's the spell that, at least I suspect, Galbatorix used to enslave Shruikan. " Eragon spoke quietly.

"I know not how they came to find it, but it's use is clear," Arya continued, glancing over at Ismira and Selender.  
_They could not have wished to overwhelm a larger or older dragon with spell or sword with fewer numbers than those here. _She said with concern in Eragon's mind, again not realising she was speaking mentally, and not audibly.

Anger and fear for Selender permeated from Saphira, and she padded across to Ismira and the baby dragon, Firnen close behind her.

_None of the hatchlings or two-legs can hear of the oathbreaker's spell _Firnen said in Eragon and Saphira's mind, and they couldn't help but agree.  
If Ismira and Selender, or any of the dragon apprentices were to find out about the spell, their fear would cause big issues in the future.

_Eragon, what can we do? _both Saphira and Arya asked as one.

_I don't know yet._

* * *

"I am sorry Eragon" - Arya said softly, as they sat by the fire, long after Ismira, Selender and Roran had retired to sleep. Firnen and Saphira had flown off at the first available opportunity, seeking some time alone.

"What is there to be sorry for? You cannot control nor predict the actions of all the elves," he said, looking at the ground.  
She turned to him and spoke his true name quietly, "That is not what I meant" as he shivered and her eyes flashed.

Eragon's mouth formed a little O before he regained control of himself.

"What then are you sorry for " and he spoke her true name. She shivered as he said, "I trust you Arya-Drottning, you know that."

All his feelings for Arya, suppressed for the past nine years, returned in a surge, and he felt the tips of his ears redden as he looked deep into the eyes of the woman he had sought after for so long.  
She gazed right back, and leaned in, saying "I never rewarded that trust Eragon, and I should have. That is why I'm sorry"

Something stopped Eragon from allowing her lips to touch his. He could not explain it, because he loved Arya. He loved her as much as he loved anything in the world. Losing her would be equivalent to losing Saphira, and yet he placed two fingers on her lips and said in the ancient language "You never needed to reward it before."  
She recoiled as if stung by a snake and he stood up, turned, and sprinted along the bank of the river wondering all the while why he had done what he did.

He did not look back and so did not see the tears well in her eyes as she wondered what had gone wrong, where she had gone wrong.

* * *

He ran for the rest of the night, blocking Saphira completely from his mind. He ran, Brisingr a lantern to his feet. He swung it at every trunk that blocked his path, leaving a trail of destruction along the banks, all the years of pain and hurt released upon nature.  
Eventually, as the sun breached the skyline, Eragon's legs gave way underneath him, and he collapsed to the ground, panting and sobbing; unable to understand his actions or their consequences.

As he lay in the dirt, and his panting faded, he noticed the sounds around him. The splash of the river, the rustle of the trees, the whisper of leaves in the wind. They all mingled into one; except for one sound, a sharp clicking behind him. Feeling as sore as an old man, he braced his legs and stood up slowly, turned, and gaped at the figures sitting on a stump before him.

"Now why would you go and do something stupid like that?" Angela quipped, as she spun a yarn of wool into a scarf.  
Eragon was dumbstruck.

"Err," words escaping Eragon.

"That's about as coherent as you were by the fire with Arya" she said seriously, Solembum flicking his tail back and forth on her lap. He playfully flicked the entrails of the needlework, clearly fascinated by the wool.

"You were watching?" Eragon asked incredulously

"Aren't I always watching in some form or another?" she retorted just as incredulously.  
Becoming sullen, Eragon muttered, "It didn't feel right."

"Well of course it didn't! Angela cried "You haven't seen her in years, hadn't properly spoken to her since you shared each others names and left. The pain of loss has been festering within you, when suddenly you see her again. How was it going to feel right? You made it much less right with your response though. Getting up and leaving. I didn't take you for a coward Eragon Shadeslayer."  
Eragon started.

"You... true names?" he managed to splutter.

"Of course I don't know your true names, else I'd be demanding some sense from both of you," she said fluently in the ancient language, a light trill in the air as she spoke.

"Its not hard to tell what someone is doing when they whisper into your ear though, they're hardly going to be telling you that toadstools don't exist are they?" she continued in their native tongue.

Eragon conceded the point, before querying. "What would you have me do then? You knew before I knew, back in Teirm. You knew what was going to happen?" Her knitting paused.  
"I rarely know, Eragon Kingkiller, but I did indeed know that you would have an epic romance with one of noble birth, the knuckle bones made that much clear. The rose blossom inscribed between the horns of the crescent moon. And how many women of noble birth are there in Alagaesia? " The knitting continued.

"To fix the dilemna you're in, you're going to have to figure it out on your own. I'm a herbalist, not a love counsellor," she said with a grin, showing she meant no offense.

"What am I to do?" Eragon asked himself out loud.

_Do what you always have done, your best. _Solembum purred in Eragon's mind as his tail continued to twitch.

"I suspect your dragon may be as unimpressed as Arya with your behaviour," Angela noted as her needles clicked, both the herbalist and the werecat ignoring Eragon completely now.

However it was Solembum's words that had jolted him back to the present and the fresh realisation of his actions. He cursed quietly and set off.  
"Thank you" he yelled back at them as he jogged slowly back the way he came, opening his mind to locate Saphira. He was sore all over, but was determined to fix the pain he knew would be in Arya and Saphira's hearts first.


	3. Moving On

"Ismira, time to go"

She felt someone shaking her lightly

"Wake up sleepyhead"

_Ismira _

"Ok, ok, I'm getting up, I'm getting up" Ismira yawned as she sat up in her bedroll. She blinked as she took in the now familiar surroundings.  
The wide riverbank, bordered by dense clusters of trees on one side, and the flowing river on the other. Selender was by the river, her jaws parted, allowing water to flow through her sharp teeth and mouth. Roran Stronghammer, her beloved father, having woken her up was walking back to his pack, preparing equipment for their hunt. He was dressed in his well worn hunting clothes and soft leather boots, making nary a whisper on the grass.

Despite her inherited position of power in Carvahall, Ismira knew how to wield a bow and hunt for food in the spine. It had kept her father fit and strong, and taught her invaluable lessons for when the winters were long and food was scarce. And indeed she loved to hunt. She didn't like to kill the animals, she just loved stalking through the forest quietly, making no sound except the steady thrum of her bow. Her mother had once commented that her skill was like that of a young farm boy, who long ago had brought meat to the butcher in Carvahall, to provide for his older brother and father. And indeed it seemed that Ismira had inherited her father and uncle's skill with weapons; her arrows rarely missing their intended target, despite the low power of her smaller bow.

"Ready to go yet?" her Dad's voice dragging her back to the present.

"Yeah, I was just thinking"

"Don't think too much, you'll end up like your uncle, wherever he's gotten to with Arya" Roran said with a wink.

_I wonder what he means, what's wrong with my Uncle? _Ismira wondered to herself.

_If you are like your two-legged uncle at all, there would be much happiness for all I think _Selender commented.  
They had worked for hours the previous evening, Ismira conveying words and emotions to Selender, helping her dragon to communicate with language and clarity. Selender had been slightly embarrassed by her inability to communicate her thoughts clearly, so Ismira had shared stories and memories of life before her copper partner. Stories of hunting, of growing up in the small castle at home. Stories her father had told her, of evil kings and brave brothers freeing her mother from evil beasts. All these and more she had spoken of with her dragon, revelling in the link they now shared.

Annoyance flowed from the link, as Selender pawed the ground and snarled playfully at Roran, who had just questioned whether Selender was ready to go hunting as well.

"I think she might be ready Dad. Don't test the temper of my dragon." Ismira laughed at her father, as she took her bow and quiver from her father's arms and walked into the trees, Selender following her closely. The words "Barzul, they grow up fast" followed her before her father caught up with them. She noticed that unlike hunts in the Spine, a great hammer hung from his belt.

"Dad, can I ask you a question?" Ismira said

_You just did silly_Selender smirked

"Yes?" Roran responded

"Why do you have your hammer with you, won't it slow you down?"

"It's just in case I need it sweetheart, nothing to worry about"

_Maybe it has to do with the pointy-ears, two-legs last night._Selender wondered, the slightest touch of fear lingering in her voice

_It'll be ok Selender, father could have killed them all with one great swing of that hammer__  
_  
Selender merely snorted, as they continued to silently search for food to

* * *

Before long, the three hunters had returned to the campsite, three deer hides draped over Selender's back. She had not been pleased to be used as a pack animal, but was more content when she was told that two of the juicy deer carcasses were for her.

As they sat by the rekindled campfire, strips of deer hanging on a stick, Ismira asked her father, who had been lost in his own thoughts:  
"Why do I hunt with a bow, and not a sword or hammer like uncle and you?"

Roran smiled at his daughter, her red hair so similar to Katrina's, and asked her a question in return,  
"What happens if your first shot at a deer misses Ismira?"

_I jump on it and snap its neck_Selender replied quickly.

"Thank you for that Selender" Roran said flatly, "But say Selender is not nearby, and Ismira misses with her arrow?"

"I'd just shoot another arrow Dad, what's your point?"

"Eragon and I only carry one sword, if we threw that at an animal and missed, how then would we kill it?" Roran said simply.

"A bow and arrow helped save your father's life a number of times in the war" he continued quietly, half to himself.

_What happened Roran_Selender asked, curious to hear more about her partner's heritage.

"Well it was a long time ago now Selender, and I was with a small number of soldiers, outnumbered in this little town. Your uncle was miles away and could not help us…" Roran started, beginning to tell his rapt audience about a time when he and a group of archers had saved a village from the Empirical soldiers. He did not tell her details about the deaths, nor the insurmountable number he had killed that day. She still had to maintain some innocence for now, Roran reasoned, before concluding, "So you see? An arrow to the knee can be as deadly as any sword or hammer can be, and I only carry one of each, unlike you"

"I don't think I want to kill people daddy" Ismira said softly.

"And I would be thrilled if you never had to, my dearest Ismira" Roran said, wrapping an arm around his precious girl. "Sometimes though we have to do bad things to save the ones we care for most"

"Aye, that does not make it easier nor more enjoyable" a voice said, moving into the campfire. Eragon had alerted Roran to his presence moments before with a gentle touch in his mind.

"Uncle Eragon, you're back, where have you been?" Ismira smiled as her Uncle approached.

"I needed to stretch my legs" Eragon replied, "where is Arya and Firnen?" he continued.

"I thought she was with you, and Firnen with Saphira?" Roran said, suddenly concerned. Riders rarely went missing without warning or reason, and if Eragon did not know where they went, few would. "What happened?"

Eragon winced, "Later, I need to find Saphira, then we shall discuss what to do."

Roran raised an eyebrow, but said nothing of it.

_Selender, can you spot Saphira above the trees? _Ismira asked Selender

_Of course._Selender said simply, before launching herself into the sky, and viewing the skies from above the protection of the treetops. Although she was young, Selender was able to stay afloat long enough to see the sapphire blue dot on the horizon approaching quickly.

"Good thinking" Roran said to his daughter.

_Saphira is flying towards us, friend-family-master-Eragon. There is blue-flame-hot-fire in her eyes, though. She is very angry. _Selender projected her thoughts to Eragon.

_Thank you Selender, you can come back now, we don't want anybody else seeing you_. Eragon replied, concerned but not surprised at the news.

A roar unlike any they had ever heard before filled the air as Saphira approached. A roar of rage, confusion and love penetrated their ears, making Eragon cover his ears and the Stronghammer's cringe.  
The mental shout that assaulted Eragon was far worse than any roar out loud.

_WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? _Saphira roared at him as she swooped over the tree tops.

Realising her intentions, Eragon exclaimed,  
_Saphira, wait! _before he was slammed onto his back and a great ivory claw trapped him on the ground.

Saphira roared with all her might into Eragon's face, teeth snapping at him.

_WHAT DID YOU DO ERAGON? I SPEND HALF THE NIGHT TRYING TO FIND YOU. FIRNEN LEFT WITH ARYA, FLYING TO GUNTERA KNOWS WHERE. AND YOU SAY LISTEN?_

"Saphira, what is wro-" Roran started, before her great tail slapped him away forcefully, her rage filled eyes not leaving Eragon's. Selender and Ismira cowled at the sight of the dragoness's anger, too afraid to speak or act.

_I'm sorry Saphira _Eragon said quietly in her mind, sending her all the emotions and thoughts that had consumed him around the fire with Arya.

In response, the pressure on his chest abated slightly, and her blue eyes softened, realising Eragon's repentance, and the cause for his actions.

_Arya cares dearly for you little one, and you love her like no other two-leg. You needed to talk to her about the past nine years. Share your experiences, your trials and your joys as you once did. Firnen and I shared stories with each other before giving into our natural instincts. You were right to want the same with Arya, you just didn't think what will happen. She will understand if you tell her._

_What would I ever do without you _Eragon said, love and care flowing through their bond, some of the weight lifted from his mind.

_Plow farm plants and other mundane tasks _Saphira replied with a snort, before getting up. Eragon hugged her neck closely.

_What happened with you and Firnen last night? _

_We were flying together over the forest, appreciating each other's company, when he roared loudly and dove for the forest floor. He barely landed when Arya alighted his back and they flew in the direction of Du Weldenvarden, although I know not what their ultimate destination was. Neither would speak with me, but they were sad Eragon. I could not follow and leave you, so returned and tried to find you, but you were not at the camp and I could not feel your mind._

_I'm sorry _Eragon repeated.

"I would dearly love to know what goes through their heads sometimes" Roran said loudly to Ismira and Selender. Eragon grinned

"No you wouldn't, we just talk about how annoying you are all the time"

"Fair point" Roran conceded. "I assume Arya returned to Ellesmera to investigate our friends from last night?"

Eragon grimaced. "Not quite, but return they did"

"What are we going to do Uncle?" Ismira piped up.

I_ can carry Selender and Ismira for the flight to Evarinya Mor'ranr. It will be slow, but I can do it. They cannot stay here, and we cannot leave them and return to Ellesmera. _Saphira said gently in Eragon's mind.

"We will fly to the home of the dragon riders, Evarinya Mor'ranr" Eragon told Ismira and Selender.

"What is that? Is it big? Where is it? Who else is there? Will I know anyone?" a rush of questions bombarded Eragon

"So many questions!" Eragon cried, although he was forced to grin at her eagerness.

_How do you think Brom felt, with you by his side? _Saphira teased.

"I wish you could stay. I do not wish to lose you again, and my daughter at the same time" Roran said, embracing Eragon tightly.

"I know, but it must be this way. You know that" Eragon replied, tears forming in his eyes.

"Isn't father coming?" Ismira said softly.

Eragon knew this was a job for her father, and her father alone, so he stepped back, as Roran bent down and spoke quietly with his eldest daughter.

"Ismira, look at me" he said, lifting her down-trodden chin

"I can't do it Dad. I just can't do it" she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks.

"Izzy" using her pet name. "This is not the end, but merely the beginning. You are my most beloved daughter. Your mother and I are so proud of you. You and Selender will be safe with Eragon, and you will be bringers of peace, dragon and rider. The most powerful beings on the planet. That is a great honour, and a heavy responsibility. Just remember, we will always be here, loving you above all else," and he pointed at her chest.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"What does your heart tell you?"

"I hope so… yes… I guess"

"Then we will see each other again" Roran said, and he smiled, embracing his daughter one last time.

And so, once again, Eragon and Saphira flew for Evarinya Mor'ranr. Roran stood on the shore, wondering how he could explain to Katrina why his cousin and only daughter had left for far away lands once again. It was so familiar, yet so different to the scene he had witness years before, that he couldn't help but laugh at the cruelty of fate.

_We are not alone little one _Selender said, nuzzling Ismira as they sat between the ivory spikes of Saphira's spine.

_No, but it sometimes feels that way._

* * *

**A/N: **Bonus points to people who pick out the TWO pop-culture references. One's a bit more subtle, while one is fairly blatant.

As always, thanks for reading, please review :)


	4. The Dance

_This is impossible Firnen_, Arya sighed, exasperated at the task before her. Piles of manuscripts and tales of old surrounded her desk. Not all were in the ancient language nor that of the humans, therefore it required her to translate each word and phrase. A painstaking task. Domia abr Wyrda lay open under a pile of elven reports.

Following their abrupt return to Ellesmera, Arya had devoted herself to finding out the identities of the elves who had attacked Selender and Ismira. As yet though, she had not deciphered any possible lead on the elf warriors, and she had already gone as far back as the fall of the riders, over one hundred years ago.

_You are a rider, there is nothing you and I cannot accomplish._

_Oh yes? And what of bringing loved ones back from the Void?_she smirked, thinking to outwit her partner. She was under no illusions as to who was wittier out of the two of them; however that did not stop her trying to out manoeuvre Firnen at any point she could.

Without warning, Firnen dived into her mind and sifted through decades of memories, collecting many from her childhood, and less frequently from the years leading to the war. He showed them to her, one at a time, recalling events of her life before her. She choked back tears as she watched her happiest memories of life before her father's death, and the few joyful moments she had with her mother.

_They may have joined the void little one, but they still live in you. _Firnen said quietly.

_Will I ever have the last word with you? _She replied with a sniff.

_No, but those memories were not for my benefit or to win an argument, but to remind you of the power of love to bring joy, as well as hurt. _His message was clear

_He ran off Firnen! He just got up and left. After all those years, he just ran off. _All the pain and hurt she had bottled up burst out like a flood. Her dragon was not to be put off though.

_We all make mistakes, as well you know. _Images of a starry glade from long ago flashed unbidden in her mind.

_That was…__Different? To some extent, yes. But you were cruel to that young man who had suffered so much already. Despite that, he forgave you willingly. Yet you tell me he was calculated and malicious in his actions to hurt you around the fire the other night?_

In her heart she knew Eragon hadn't meant to hurt her, just as she hadn't meant to hurt him numerous times. Realising the truth of his words, she sighed.

_It seems he and I hurt each other whenever we get too close, _she said sadly.

_Arya, you and Eragon should learn to dance together. You cannot dance without touching, else you would step on each other's toes. To dance, you must embrace your partner, move as one person, and let the music carry you where it will._

She gaped for a moment. Firnen was teaching a century old elf how to dance?  
_When did you learn so much about dancing Firnen? I don't remember having danced since the end of the war? __That itself is a great shame, however Saphira shared many things regarding the lead rider's time at Evarinya Mor'ranr. The wise-ebrithil-eldunari have shown the lead dragon and her rider many things some may consider irrelevant. I merely saw the connection between teaching of dance and lessons of life, as I'm confident was intended. Now, enough work for the day, come and lie with me. _

Arya smiled.

_You should do that more often little one. You are queen of a powerful race in a time of relative peace, and a dragon rider. It's unbecoming for one so beautiful to frown._

_Thank you Firnen_, was her only thought said as she lay down on his emerald green foreleg. Before long she had slipped into her waking dreams, all thoughts of dark magic and lost loved ones forgotten as she lay in the comfort of the most majestic creature she had ever known.

Arya woke to the warm sunshine filtering through the natural window of her room. The sun had just broken the horizon, and with alarm she called to Firnen in her mind, as he was not in the room with her.

_Firnen! How long have I been asleep? _

_Only for yesterday evening. I carried you to your room once the sun set. The elven Lords did not disturb you when I told them we had been training together and you needed rest. _Firnen replied with a grin.

_Will I ever not be in your debt? _She asked him with a smile, grateful for his efforts.

_You can never be in my debt, we are one entity. Never forget that._

Arya nodded. _What happened while I was asleep?_

_Nothing that cannot wait. However I believe you have a visitor, or at least will shortly._

_Who? _She asked, curious.

_Look to the horizon little one._

Her curiosity deepened as she got up and saw her 'visitor'. Two dots, one blue, and one green, approached, darting in and around each other as they drew near.

_Firnen? Why didn't you tell me? I'm in no state to see him again. _She sent him an image of her dishevelled clothes and face.

_Look again little one, your eyes deceive you of their size, for it is neither Saphira or I that approach._And he sent her an image of him laying in the sun.

_Wha- oh _she exclaimed as the smudges came into focus. An all too familiar small green and white ship, made of leaves and grass, circled another ship of similar size. She remembered the night she had woven the intricate details of the leafy boat, and the spell she had cast to keep it aloft over the lands of Alagaesia. The second boat was tinged a brilliant blue, and seemed to glow with an inner fire. Although she did not recognise it, her heart knew who had sent it. The two ships continued to weave around each other, always approaching but never touching. A number of times Arya would have said they could not have avoided colliding, such was the path they were travelling; however somehow they kept diverging later than she thought possible. Inevitably the boats sailed over Arya's balcony, and she was able to examine the blue boat as it hovered near her.

The design was imperfect, but it was clearly made in the likeness of the boat that had sailed from Alagaesian shores nine years ago. The deck was devoid of all life, save for a sapphire blue dragon and rider, unmistakably in sorrow; their heads downcast, the rider on his knees. Her heart pounding, Arya reached out and gently stroked first the dragon, then the hair of the rider.

At once the miniature figures collapsed upon themselves, along with the boat, leaving a small scrap of paper resting in her palm. Fingers shaking, Arya peeled back the wax seal and started to read the script.

_My dearest Arya,_

_A number of times whilst preparing this, I thought to scry you and have our conversation face to face with only mirrors separating us. However I decided that this method may be more personal than the separation of glass and magic._

_I wish to apologise for my actions around the fire all those nights ago._  
_I neither treated you or your trust with respect._

_I jeopardised all that we had worked for because I was a fool._  
_I reasoned that after nine years there would be too much for us to share with each other before we could regain the relationship we once had._  
_And although it is true that friendships and love are based upon the sharing of stories, emotions and experiences, we have shared as much as could ever be shared already._  
_We cannot share more of ourselves or understand each other better; we hold each other's identity and very being in our heart and mind, and that is not something that can change idly like the wind._

_So it seems in wanting to be the best friend I could be, I neglected being the man you stood by throughout the years._

_And so from the depths of my soul I am sorry Arya. Do with me what you will._  
_But know this._

_I love you._

_Atra du evarínya ono varda Arya Svitkona,_

_Eragon Shadeslayer_

Arya smiled at the claw mark next to Eragon's name, Saphira giving her unique stamp of approval to the letter. A single tear slid down her delicate nose and dropped onto the page.

Strangely, the tear turned to a deep blue when connected with the sheet. From that point the colour spread over the page, initially just blue, but then a leafy green, until the paper was dyed equally green and blue. Arya stared at it, as the sheet started to crumple, the blue scrunching together, the green forming a slender cylinder. Before her eyes, a blue rose grew from Eragon's apology, green stem and leaves supporting the blue petals. She could not help but smile, at the beauty of the rose, at the beauty that had manifested from a heartfelt apology, and the beauty that was her dearest friend and fellow rider, Eragon Shadeslayer.

_Firnen? _She smiled, tears in her eyes

_Yes, little one?_

_I think its time we finally trained as dragon and rider. _She said simply, conveying her thoughts and gushing emotions through their irreplaceable link.

A roar of joy and happiness sent the birds of Ellesmera soaring into the sky as Firnen basked in the happiness he and Arya felt, and the weight that had been lifted from her shoulders. The issue of the elves could wait.

* * *

As he rode into the large campgrounds on the western edge of the Hadarac desert, Vanir felt a surge of pride at the work the Urgals had undertaken for nine years, end on end. They had worked tirelessly each year to fulfil Eragon fire-sword's vision for a series of games between the races. And each year, scores of spectators and representatives from each nation came for the month long event. As the elven ambassador, Vanir had seen elves, humans, Urgals and dwarves compete to show their strength, agility and speed. Over the years, many results had surprised him, often when dwarves or men rose to challenge and defeat the elves and urgals in strength and speed. Each time he had reflected on his final duel with Eragon, and how much he had to learn still about the determination of the 'lesser' races.

"Vanir-finiarel!" A young voice in the crowd cried out with joy.

Vanir smiled and dismounted as a vivacious young urgal ran up to him.

"Hello nar-Dalia" he replied to the urgal dam as she approached. She was around five and twenty years old, and remarkably attractive for an Urgal. He had met the daughter of Nar-Garzhvog a few years ago, and they had formed a strong friendship, despite the differences of their races. She had taught him much about the Urgal culture, and had hung on every word he had told her of elven life. Their friendship was one of the few reasons he enjoyed the inter-racial games as much as he did. _If not for her presence, I would have stopped attending the games long ago; I doubt Arya would have complained. _Although he understood the need for such games, he generally found the idea of the races competing to show their 'strength' repulsive. Eragon had shown him long ago that mere strength and speed did not dictate ones purity of heart or kindness.

He smiled as he recalled the crack his bone had made when it broke under Zar'roc's influence. It had symbolised the start of change in Vanir, a breaking of old prejudices. He had been unable to fight properly for weeks, allowing his body to heal naturally, and so had collected every manuscript and scroll on the history of humans. The resilience and determination of humans had been abundantly clear, despite their physical weaknesses. Vanir had grown to respect them, and had even grown curious to learn of the history of the other races. So when the princess of the elves had suggested him as the elven ambassador to the other races, he had jumped at the idea.

_Without the Shadeslayers, I would be a very different man. Or I would be dead, and Galbatorix would still be on his dark throne_. Vanir laughed silently to himself.

"Do you have any pressing needs to attend to right away?" Dalia asked as they approached his tent in silence, enjoying each other's presence, each lost in their own thoughts. As they had moved through the sea of tents, Elves and Urgals alike had given them strange looks; the two races still weren't entirely comfortable in each other's presence.

_If only they understood how incredibly unique they all are, how much we can learn from each other._

"Unfortunately I do" he replied to Dalia's question. _It would have been nice to talk to someone about all that has happened. It has been a tiresome time of late._"I will need to meet with your father, Grimstborith Hadfala and General Stronghammer to discuss matters most likely benign and dull. None of us enjoy it greatly, but our roles require us to burden some responsibilities"

"Aye, then I expect the rest of the evening to have you to myself. It has been too long since we spoke last." Vanir nodded, and the young urgal turned and bounced away, her long blond hair trailing her figure wrapped in a leather tunic. He was pleased to be able to share the pleasant woman's company after the draining meeting.

"I look forward to it," he smiled to himself, before dropping his bags on the low bed and wandering in the direction of the leadership pavilion. He dearly wanted to share with her the elven secret he had been privy to only hours before. Dathedr had reported that the Queen and her dragon had departed for Evarinya Mor'ranr, to "fulfil their training," that very morning. _Training indeed. _Vanir was one of the few elves who had seen the fairth of Arya resting next to her sleeping quarters. He did not know the details, but if his suspicions as to the fairth's origin were correct, the trip to Evarinya Mor'ranr was more than pure business.

The queen planned to return by the concluding event of the games, the agility test. In the month until then, Dathedr had been left in charge of any petty issues that would inevitably arise, especially given the elves nervousness at a lack of elven riders.  
_Maybe the queens trip will help the fools amongst us see some sense. Having riders does not make you strong, and being strong does not make you great. Dragons have never chosen a rider based on strength of body alone. _Vanir thought to himself as he glided through the crowds, the leadership tent easily visible. The large dome tent was made of a strong leather, which had been lacquered with a blue varnish. Roran had suggested the design, symbolising each race working together, with the dragons (and riders) overseeing the affairs of the land, protecting them from the 'storms' of life. Vanir paused at the security detail guarding the leadership tent.

"The elf ambassador," the leadership security detail announced, as Vanir entered the leather structure.

_Here we go again_. It was going to be a long afternoon. The thought of time with Dalia brightened his mood as he greeted his equivalents of the other races.

"Greetings Vanir, it is good to see you once again" Grimsborith Hadfala greeted the elven ambassador with a warm smile and a low bow.

"And you also Hadfala" Vanir responded, before greeting the other ambassadors.

Roran, robed in a stylish cream outfit, his brown hair cut short and left hanging naturally; altogether looking comfortable but regal enough for a visit to the queen. _The outfit must have been chose by Katrina. Roran has no mind for clothing or dressing for an occasion _he thought with a grin. Despite Vanir's joking, Roran had been an obvious choice for Queen Nasuada's human representative. Following the war, he was a hero to the people. Being cousin to Eragon Kingkiller helped, but his personal victories had made Roran an extremely popular and sought after man in political circles of the Empire. On its reconstruction, Carvahall's population had grown exponentially, as nobles from all over the empire migrated to the once little town, so as to be closer to the hero.

Similarly, Nar-Garzhvog had been nominated for his efforts in the war, as well as being a respected clan chief amongst the Urgals, having fought and won many battles with the Varden against the mad king.

Overall, Vanir respected each of the ambassadors, and they him. The humble and kind elf had displayed many of the characteristics the races had admired in Arya, but had brought an open and jovial atmosphere to various meetings.

"What is news from the west Stronghammer?" Vanir asked, looking at Roran. He had heard of the attack on the general's daughter, and was curious as to how much had been revealed to the other races

"Two things, one of which you will already be aware. A dragon hatched for a human rider; my own daughter of all people. She and Eragon have flown back to the rider's home for her training." Roran smiled tightly, the loss of his daughter still weighing heavily on his heart.  
"However the issue you won't have heard of, mostly due to its relative lack of import, is news of a pirate fleet operating off the west coast. Merchant ships have been ambushed randomly but frequently, and no pattern to their attacks has been deciphered as yet. We have had to double the security crews on each vessel sailing between Surda and Teirm, which has not pleased Nasuada or Orrin. Otherwise there is little we can do."

Vanir dismissed the pirates with a nod; it was not uncommon and they would be caught in due time. More interesting was the general not acknowledging the elven attack in front of the other races.

_Maybe he does not want to cause undue panic. We can do little until the attackers identities have been revealed._

"Will Eragon be sending more eggs then? By my recollection there are no more available eggs in the land." Hadfala asked Vanir.

"We can assume so, although I know not of when we can expect them." This was only partly true, as Dathedr had told Vanir that Arya was planning on bringing more eggs back on her return. _Whether Eragon likes that idea or not, given the current climate, will be interesting.__  
_  
The rest of the council passed without anything of interest being mentioned, except confirmation of each race's competitors for the games.

"Albreich Horstson will compete for the humans" Roran declared proudly. "He has grown strong while helping rebuild Carvahall, and he has retained his quick feet from the war."

"Ginkorin from Durgrimst Nagra will represent the dwarves. She is well known in the halls of Tronjheim for her feats of bravery hunting Nagra. We have often enjoyed hearing of her hunts, while we dine on their remains," Hadfala said with a grin, the dwarf loosening her belt slightly.

"Loufin, brother of Laufin, will be present for the elves. You may remember Laufin; he was one of Eragon Shadeslayers elven guards, and I assure you, Loufin is just as strong as his older brother." Vanir declared, joining in the game that the leaders played, over-representing their races chances at winning. It was part of the friendship maintained between the representatives that they would try and out-do each other in trivial matters. He looked expectantly at Nar-Garzhvog, waiting to hear the Urgal's participant for the games.

The Kull cleared his throat with a dull roar and said in the typically gruff voice of all Urgals:  
"The urgralgra have confirmed that I, Nar-Garzhvog, will lead the campaign against the other races" and he bared his neck with a grin, roaring with triumph at his trump card.

Vanir and the other races paused in shock at the unprecedented event, then began laughing and congratulating Nar-Garzhvog on his decision to compete.

Loufin may have a difficult time winning this year. Vanir mused as he excused himself from the meeting, making his way past the guards and back to his tent. He was not perturbed by the turn of events, the elves indefinitely won one event at the games, that was given, and this year would be no different. Remembering that the participants were not revealed until the opening ceremony, Vanir realised Dalia was in for a shock when her father stepped up to challenge the other races.

_It will be an interesting month, if nothing else._

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks again for reading/sticking with this story. Reviews (whether positive or negative) are always appreciated_  
_


	5. Mutiny

The ocean stretched for miles in either direction, the sky reflecting the radiant blue. If not for the feeling of weight and the crashing of the waves below, one could get lost in the eternal blue.

_I hope we made the right decision coming out here alone. _Firnen spoke to his partner of heart and mind.

"This is not the first time I have had to track Eragon in the wild, Firnen" Arya shouted above the dull roar of the waves, before conversing mentally so as to be heard. _Nature sings of when the riders passed by this way, only a few weeks ago. Saphira had Ismira and Selender to carry as well, so progress would not have been quick.__Arya, be careful not to underestimate the power of the lead dragon and rider. They are more powerful than you realise. Do not let..._ Firnen paused, then continued _A star flashes on the horizon _he said with glee, as his keen eyes spied the briefest flash of light ahead of them. _We are close._ And he roared in triumph, his great emerald wings beating faster as the dark smudge of an island appeared. Every so often, light would flash in their eyes as the sun reflected a dragon's scale in the distance, a star guiding them to their destination.

_We are home, little one _Firnen said quietly to Arya's surprise. She had considered Ellesmera home since her appointment as Queen of the elves, but in her heart, she knew Firnen was right. They were dragon and rider, and they belonged with other dragons and riders, not bound to any one race or duty.

She smiled at the great joy that was her closest companion. _Yes, perhaps we are home._

* * *

As Firnen circled lower and lower towards the plains of Evarinya Mor'ranr, Arya took in the size of the citadel, from the gates large enough for two dragons to fly through side by side, to the massive great hall, and even the smaller residences built into the higher regions of the mountain. She had never seen Doru Areaba, thus the size of all the buildings astounded her. The last thing she noticed as Firnen landed was a great watchtower on the highest peak of the mountain range bordering the citadel. It was from there that flashes of scales could be seen.

_It is a place of great power, as well as beauty, _Firnen said in her mind. He had noted the strategically placed buildings and gates. An initial glance at the structures did not do justice to the planning and consulting that had gone into ensuring the island would be secure in case of a siege or invasion.

_He has worked tirelessly to create a home for the riders, those whose future is paramount to the safety of Alagaesia. _She said in reply before continuing aloud. "I am sure they have spotted us, we should not keep our hosts waiting to hear of our intentions."

"Indeed Arya Drottning, that would be rude indeed," a voice purred behind her.

She spun around. Blodgharm and a the elves dedicated to Eragon and the riders stood there, quietly observing the queen and her dragon.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin, Arya-Svitkona" Blodgharm continued, showing respect to her by beginning the elven introductions.

"Atra du evarinya ono varda, Blodgharm-finiarel" she replied, before greeting the other elves. They smiled at having another dragon and rider join them, especially an elven rider. Throughout her conversations with her kin, one question remained at the forefront of Arya's mind.

_Do not fret little one, he will see us eventually. _Firnen calmed her racing mind.

As if reading their thoughts, Blodgharm said with a smile, "Eragon is out sparring with the apprentices, else he would be here greeting you himself. As it is, we are ensuring no visitor goes unwelcomed in his brief absence."

"And the dragons?" Arya asked, "We saw bright flashes of scales from the watchtower as we drew closer"

The elves laughed as one, and Blodgharm explained: "since their return with Ismira and Selender, Saphira has been pushing each of the young dragons through a vigorous series of exercises, building their strength and endurance. She has joined Eragon today with the apprentices, giving the dragons a day of rest. They have been floating on the currents near the watchtower, giving their wings a rest. Come, we shall meet Eragon and the apprentices outside the gates."

_Brightscales is concerned for the young ones safety after you found oathbreakers-dark-evil-words of power. _Firnen said, pride at his mates determination to keep their race safe.

_Indeed. I wonder how much Blodgharm and the others know._

As Arya and Firnen broke from the cover of the trees, her jaw dropped at the size of the citadel. The view she had from the air did not do justice to the structures that stood before her. Blodgharm merely smiled and said: "Welcome to Evarinya Mor'ranr."

* * *

"What's it like Blodgharm, living here, training the riders and dragons?" Arya asked, as they sat together on the field outside the gates. Firnen had flown off, declaring_ I wish to see my brothers and sisters again; it has been long since I saw and trained the young ones._  
The other elves had departed soon after, disappearing into the forest and citadel, various duties to attend to.

"It is lonely, as I'm sure you can understand" he replied, "we have little contact with Alagaesia, and know not what is becoming of our race back in Du Weldenvarden. However we sense great pain, and darkness descending upon the elves. I worry for our race Arya," he said, his fur rippling in the breeze.

Arya nodded, shivering despite the warmth of the sun. She could understand how hard it must be for Blodgharm and the elves. She had spent years with the Varden, away from other elves, with barely any knowledge of events in Du Weldenvarden.

"However, I would not trade what we have here for all the power, glory or gold in the world. My and our duty is here, helping Eragon and the students rebuild the greatest and most sacred bond in the known world. The bond of dragons and riders."

And he began to recall to her the many incredible stories he had experienced over the years. Of teaching young minds of magic. Of sparring with overconfident young warriors. Of conversing with the eldunarya. Above all, Blodgharm shared with Arya memories of Eragon's teachings of compassion; sharing with the apprentices their responsibilities to act kindly and uphold the peace. She noticed that tears of joy and pride had formed in Blodgharm's eyes.

_Eragon has done an amazing thing here. _She thought to herself.

"Aye, an amazing thing he has done. And we must guard it with our lives and being. For if the riders fall, there will be no hope for peace in the world."

This was the second time Blodgharm had appeared to read her thoughts, and so she asked him with slight annoyance. "How is it you seem to know what I am thinking Blodgharm? The barriers of my mind have not been penetrated, yet you seem to be hearing my every thought."

"Not every thought, I am sure." He smiled, then relented "Every visitor or rider with knowledge of times before the war has regarded our works with the same expression. It is no arcane ability to read the signs of awe," he laughed at her annoyance.

"Indeed, I shall remember to guard my expressions more carefully from now."

"I wish you luck with that. Many things will surprise you during your time here. Even I do not know all the secrets of Evarinya Mor'ranr, and I supervised in its construction." He smiled quietly as she regarded him.

Arya jogged him playfully with an elbow, "when did you become so carefree and joyful Blodgharm? You were never like this while with the Varden"

"It is Eragon and the dragons, they are a source of joy to all who reside here. Do not be deceived though, for I am not carefree. I still care for those I left behind, whether in Alagaesia or those lost to the void; but the joy in our accomplishments, growth and development as a team are irrepressible"

"It certainly seems that way. I wish I could join you" Arya said softly.

"Arya, you are the wisest of all the elves, and beautiful even among the standards of our race. The lead rider often looks out across the ocean, wishing for one person to be with him. He and I have spoken of this. He longs not for Roran, his cousin; nor Murtagh, his brother; nor Nasuada, the queen of his race. He longs for one person alone to fill the hole in his heart. It would bring great joy to us all if you would stay, and may bring hope to the elves of Alagaesia."

She looked at Blodgharm with newfound respect. He had always been a powerful warrior, of that there was no doubt. But his time at Evarinya Mor'ranr had clearly changed him. He was warmer, and more compassionate than before. _How much has changed due to the peace, and how much because of his time with Eragon? _Arya thought to herself. A question nagged at her as she reflected on his last comment.

"What do you know of home Blodgharm? What have you heard?"

"I have heard as little as a deer hears before a dragon pounces on it, however I sense that the elves wish for a rider to join our ranks here. In the past, riders have represented power and prestige. We, the proudest of the races, always held the balance of power in this regard. The elven riders greatly outnumbered the human riders on Vroengard. This balance has changed since the fall. We are no longer the dominant race, and this is cause for worry amongst some." He paused, gazing at a grasshopper that had landed on his furry knee. As it leapt away, he continued sadly.

"This should not be a concern for the elves though. Dragons will hatch for their rider not based on what race they are, but the quality of their heart. The elves know this, and have known it for millennia.  
No, I feel there is a more sinister force at work, one that is ancient beyond reckoning. A force that seeks to rule as the elves once did over all nations and races. I feel this angst the elves have is not of their own making, but one that has been planted in their hearts and left to spring up and strangle their wisdom. The elves are not what they once were."

His perception at the issues of her nation, and his thoughts on their basis made Arya start. Blodgharm had summarised and made logical conclusions to the issues of her race, and he had heard limited, if any, news.

_Those who abide here are powerful Arya; the dragons here are strong and agile, their wisdom rivalling even mine. We would do well to stay here as long as possible. _Firnen said in her mind.

_I fear the elves may need us sooner than we may wish _Firnen she replied, before looking at Blodgharm, who had stood up amidst her silence and was gazing at the treeline. He spoke two words as a joyous roar filled the heavens and a small group stepped out of the shadow of the trees, a blue dragon flying above them. "They're here." And Arya's heart was filled with happiness at the sight.

* * *

Verdra grunted in surprise at the arrow sticking out of her arm. She had not heard or seen Ismira since the human child had run off into the trees. Verdra ripped the dulled arrow away. Ismira had been using blocked arrows that stuck to their target, but did no more harm than a blocked sword would. "I will not be beaten by you Ismira," Verdra growled at the undergrowth surrounding her. As she uttered the flame-haired girl's name, another arrow flew towards the dwarf. Too late, Verdra saw it, and yelped as it stuck to her forehead, just above her eyes. She sighed, sheathing her sword, and removing the arrow. Despite all the trainees' skill with a blade, Ismira had dealt with them swiftly and soundly with her bow from the cover of the trees. She was a testament to the training Roran had provided her; and had only developed further in the month since her arrival.

Eragon had offered the young girl the chance not to spar, given her age, but she had insisted on learning to fight. She had not yet been issued one of the traditional rider weapons, but was progressing quickly with the wooden sparring swords and would soon be granted the opportunity to select a blade for herself. Ismira's ability to move silently and unseen through the foliage had garnered the other rider's respect; they had been unable to defeat her in battles where cover was available.

Eragon, Dazhgra and the dwarf Godok leapt down from their observation points in the trees.  
"Well done once again Ismira," Eragon said to the joyous young human, as she appeared to materialise from the tree trunk. "Soon you will have to learn to spar without the protection of cover. There may be times when you cannot retreat and defeat your opponent from afar." Ismira nodded as Eragon turned to Verdra.

"Verdra, you need to learn to adapt. You are a powerful and creative warrior, but a rider should be ready to fight in any scenario, that is why we spar out here in the wild and not on a designated site near the castle."

"Yes, Ebrithil, I will learn"

"And you have!" Eragon crowed, "all of you have grown (or are growing, he smiled at Ismira) to be wise and powerful riders. Soon Verdra, you and Dazhgra shall graduate as full Dragon Riders, however I still have a few secrets to share before then" he said with a twinkle in his eye.  
Verdra and Dazhgra glowed with pride.

"Now, let us return before Ismira puts an arrow between my eyes" Eragon said.

_It might knock some sense into you._Saphira said from afar.

He began strolling back in the direction of the castle, ignoring his dragon's tease. "When we return, Godok, you shall sit by the ocean for an hour and listen with your mind." Godok groaned, he knew that he would be expected to recall all that he had seen and learnt in the hour, and knew he would struggle to see everything, as Eragon required for him to progress.

"Verdra and Dazhgra, you can spend the time as you wish; however I would recommend letting your dragon's rest. Saphira has been training them to their limits recently, and they need a break."

"What about me?" Ismira asked.

"More questions?" Eragon asked incredulously, teasing his little niece, "you and I shall work together for an hour."

The other apprentices smiled at the awe on Ismira's face as she heard the news. Over the years, each rider had each spent plenty of time under Eragon's private tutelage. The sessions had been consistently challenging, however Eragon was adept at holding his apprentices attention and keeping the lessons interesting. As a bonus, he would occasionally feed them stories of when he had personally used the knowledge he was passing onto them.

_Eragon. A green dragon has just been sighted on the horizon. A lone rider sits on its back. _Blodgharm's mind touched Eragon's, and he let his elven friend in.

_Saphira? _Eragon cast a mental call around, curious as to where his dragon had flown to.

_I am returning now. A wild dragon sought to challenge me to a hunt. I made sure I beat her soundly. _Saphira said proudly.

_I trust you heard Blodgharm as well as I?_

_Naturally. We should return at once. _Saphira said with utter certainty.

Eragon quickly gave some instructions to Blodgharm. _Let them land. You're more than welcome to greet your queen. __We shall meet you outside the gates, on the fields there._

_As you wish, ebrithil, however Arya and the elven monarchs of Alagaesia no longer hold any power over the elves here. We swore ourselves to you and the dragons above all other duties. _Blodgharm replied, disengaging from Eragon's mind.

"Master Eragon?" Godok said, trying to draw Eragon's glazed eyes back to the present.

Dazhgra chuckled, the ruk ruk of his throat echoing amongst the trees. "Firesword was communicating with Saphira Godok, surely you have picked up on these silences by now."

"Think nothing of it" Verdra said, grinning at Ismira "infact, use the time to relax. One time we spent half a day doing nothing while Eragon was distracted by Saphira. Initially we thought he was trying to test our patience, until we realised he was completely distracted by his dragon!"

Eragon glared at his two senior apprentices in mock annoyance. "You're all so very amusing. I think we should celebrate your comedic talents by cancelling the time to rest I had given you."

Dazhgra and Verdra groaned. "Instead," Eragon continued, "we shall all greet Arya Drottning, Queen of the Elves; who has just flown over the horizon with her dragon Firnen," And with that, he walked off, grinning at the baffled looks on the cohort behind him. He was more than happy to joke with his apprentices. It was a lonely existence on Evarinya Mor'ranr, so Saphira and Eragon had done all they could to raise the spirits of the riders; who had left their previous lives, friends and loves behind when they had touched the eggs presented to them.

* * *

As he trudged through the undergrowth of the forests surrounding the citadel; his trainees catching up; Eragon grew apprehensive at the news of Arya's arrival; he had not heard back from her since the rejection around the fire, and knew not of her reaction to his letter.

_She is here little one, which is more than we could have expected._ Saphira murmured to him as she soared above them, dispelling his concern with her joy at reuniting with her mate once more._ Now pay attention, Dazhgra just asked you another question!_

"Firesword, why are we yet to lock horns with you, the lead rider? Blodgharm is no doubt a strong and fierce opponent, but surely he is no match for your strength and speed."

Eragon raised his eyebrows. "You had better make sure Blodgharm does not hear you say that Dazhgra, he might just show you how fierce his blade is by slicing out your tongue," but then he smiled at the startled Urgal before continuing. "It is true that I have refrained from unsheathing my sword against the four of you while you have been here. Instead, I have chosen to watch and comment where necessary. With his skillset, Blodgharm is better suited to be your sparring opponent. Although I may be stronger and just faster, I struggle to match him in unarmed combat, which as I'm sure you're aware, can be just as deadly." Eragon pointed at the Urgal's large horns. During the sparring sessions, Eragon had instructed Dazhgra to block the tips of his horns, so as to avoid any unfortunate accidents.

"What about us?" Ismira said as they trudged through the forest.

Eragon looked at her quizzically, "us? Ismira?"

"Well, if Dazhgra is training with Blodgharm, because he needs help with his horns, why don't we train with you?" she asked innocently.

_Perhaps he is scared that one of his apprentices will best him in a fight and put an arrow through his eye? _Saphira projected her thoughts to the cohort of apprentices.

Eragon snarled at her in his mind as the apprentices laughed at her teasing. _Thankyou for that Saphira._

_I love you too Eragon._

"I guess I shall have to regain my pride by defeating you all next time we train," Eragon said with a fierce smile. The apprentices glanced at each other with anticipation. They had all heard stories of Eragon's triumphs in the war, but none had seen him in armed combat personally, and certainly knew of no-one who had ever crossed blades with the lead rider. It was at this point that they stepped into the open and Saphira's roar shook the heavens as the Queen of the Elves came into view.

As three of the riders moved quickly to greet the monarch, Ismira held back. Eragon knelt beside his niece and spoke quietly to her. They had not discussed at length the events that had occurred near the Alagaesian border.

"Ismira, Arya is my friend. I promise she isn't going to hurt you. She's helping us find more of the elves who attacked us. Arya is as friendly as Blodgharm" The little girl nodded, brightening at the thought of the elf, who had always treated her with joy and kindness. Eragon hugged her red hair to his chest. "It's ok, I promise. Your father trusts Arya, and so do I. And besides, Selender will be around, and Saphira says she is going to be one of the most powerful dragons here." Eragon said, sharing Saphira's insights with his apprentice.

"Ok" she nodded and smiled with confidence as he let her go.

"Alright, now let's go meet the Queen."

Eragon stood, and the two riders approached Arya hand in hand; one experienced beyond his years, the other at the beginning or her journey.

As they drew abreast with the other apprentices, Arya looked at Eragon and Ismira, smiling at the latter. To her credit, Ismira curtsied to Arya and welcomed her to Evarinya Mor'ranr. Arya laughed kindly to the little girl.

"There's no need for that Ismira. We are both riders, and riders bow to no other power."

_Except the power of their dragons, who I will go gather if you wish._Saphira asked Eragon, who merely nodded at the partner of his mind, before looking to Arya, who was gazing at him.

"Eragon"

"Milady." The word slipped out before Eragon could stop himself. He had never called Arya that before, and why he had then escaped him. The corners of the Queen's mouth tilted up almost imperceptibly, as the four apprentices look at Eragon curiously. Blodgharm turned away, hiding a smile. They had never seen their master treat another being with such respect or dignity, save that of the other Dragons or Eldunari, who only the elves had been told of.

"I thought she said-" Ismira started, before Godok gave her a look. The faint rumble of a dragon's laugh could be heard in the distance as Saphira soared towards the watchtower.

"We were just discussing how none of the riders have seen their master's prestigious sparring skills," Arya said, her lilting tones giving just the slightest hint at her amusement at the situation.

Eragon glared at her suspiciously. "There has been no need as yet. I have been able to judge their capacities by seeing them spar with Blodgharm or the other elves."

"And what of I, Eragon Shadeslayer? How will my skills be judged?" she said with a smile. It was not a smile Eragon wished to see; the knowing smile of a hunter as it traps its prey.

"Maybe you could spar with her Eragon" Verdra said, a little too innocently. The other apprentices seconded the idea eagerly.

_It seems the head rider has been overruled by his pupils. _Saphira projected her thoughts and mirth at her rider's situation to all.

"Mutiny," Eragon muttered. "When shall your 'testing' begin o great queen?" he said, keeping a straight face.

"Whenever milord wishes it," Arya replied smoothly, although she unsheathed her sword in preparation to block its edges.

Eragon sighed with resignation. "So be it," he said to no-one in-particular as the small crowd made a makeshift circle on the soft grass.

_Do not beat her too swiftly Eragon._ Blodgharm said in his mind. _It would not be wise to embarrass your friend infront of your apprentices; who as yet are not aware of how powerful you are, even when compared to a century old elven queen.__You think that is likely for me to best her? The last time we sparred, Arya and I were evenly matched blades. You were there, remember?__Aye, but the Queen has not been training for the past nine years. The apprentices may not see it, but I have seen your sparring since our arrival here. You have grown fast and strong. Not many would be able to match a dragon one on one. _

Eragon stood up from his preparations and glanced at Blodgharm in surprise. Only Saphira had known of his private training with the wild dragons. The eldunarya had suggested he train in the heart of the island against the wild dragons, who had revelled in challenging (and often defeating) the lead rider in combat. The wild dragons respected Eragon enough that they would not kill him intentionally, however a number of times Eragon had to heal grievous wounds caused by an angry claw or tooth. It had become a ritual of sorts for the wild dragons and Eragon, his skill with blade and body improving dramatically, and even if he hadn't realised, none of the elves could hope to match him by themselves.

_Ok, I shall endeavour not to embarrass her._

_That would be wise Eragon. _Saphira said pointedly. _However, wait five minutes and we shall all return. The dragons wish to see Eragon and Arya Shadeslayer cross blades._

"May I see your sword Arya while we wait for the dragons to return?" he said, curious to see the sword that had been forged for her.

She merely raised her eyebrows at him, but handed him the slender blade. It was a beautiful sword, Eragon thought as he saw the intricate patterns of brightsteel woven into the blade. It was then that he realised it was very similar to the blade Murtagh had retrieved in Gil'ead. A green blade, laced with veins of silver protruded from the curved crossguard, the ends of which narrowed to sharp points. A small but elegant gemstone was enclosed by the hilt of the weapon.

The inscription on the blade, "ebrithil", surprised Eragon.

_It is better than sheepbiter _Saphira said with a snort.

_Indeed Brightscales, but like Brisingr is meaningful to Eragon, Ebrithil has meaning for me. _Arya spoke in their minds, unconsciously melding her and Firnen's mind with the lead rider and dragoness. Eragon gave her a questioning face.

_Your mental barriers are strong Eragon, but Saphira has linked minds with Firnen, allowing us all to communicate. Think little of it. I trust you, as I know you trust me. As for my blade, you recognise it as the same I wielded when we first met. That blade was also the first blade I used for the Varden, outside of Ellesmera. Ebrithil is similar. It represents the start of something new, of Firnen and I working for a higher purpose as dragon and rider. This sword is a mastery of that which I first fought for. Freedom for myself and all races. _

"A beautiful weapon, and a worthy cause," he said out loud, handing it back to her.

As he spoke, six dragons alighted on the balustrade of the walls, their long necks craning to see the two riders clash. A number of the wild dragons landed on the opposite edge of the field, to watch the battle that was to occur. The remaining elven guards sprinted from the forest, duties abandoned as they heard of the event through the whispering of the wind.

The students glanced around and surveyed the clash of wills. Dahzgra and the dwarves looked keen to see the clash of wills. Ismira looked nervous for her uncle, while the elves remained expressionless.

_I hope he doesn't hurt her too badly, _Saphira said to Firnen, who snorted at the idea.

_He won't, _Firnen replied confidently.

Arya greeted the recenty arrivals as she had the apprentices, then turned and walked thirty paces away from Eragon.

"Have you accepted your fate Eragon Shadeslayer?" she called, turning around and looking deep into his eyes, studying his every move.

"Aye, for better or for worse, I have," he replied, leaving Brisingr sheathed.

A slight gasp went up from the onlookers, and the dragons growled in warning as Eragon shut his eyes, apparently leaving him unarmed and vulnerable to any attack she might make.

Blodgharm snarled quietly, but otherwise did not say anything.

_We shall see _was Saphira's only thought, which she kept to herself as Arya bounded towards Eragon, her blade flashing in the sun as it carved a deadly stroke at his neck.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm not perfect, and if you point out problems, I'll fix them ;)  
Thanks for reading :)


	6. A Deadly Game

An elbow nudged him in the side, and a cheeky voice whispered in his ear "the elves are not as strong as they once may have imagined." Dahlia, of course. Vanir turned to her.

"Are you sure you want to test that" he said, a smile in his eyes.

The urgal dam shook her horns subtly. "No, I wouldn't want to anger the elves by goring their ambassador." The gentle ruk-ruk sound of her laugh vibrated Vanir's sensitive ears as she smiled next to him.

Her comment on the elves couldn't have been more accurate. The first of the three challenges that each race participated in was a rout. It was always expected that the test of strength, traditionally a wrestle to submission, would be won by the urgals or elves; but Nar Garzhvog had subdued the other races with ease this year. A clear victor.

And now Loufin was being bested yet again in the second of three tests. This test was one of intellect, not physical strength, and Ginkorin was smiling; the dwarf answering riddle after riddle with ease. A sigh caught Vanir's attention behind him, and he turned to see the Earl of Carvahall shaking his head.

"Albreich Albreich Albreich." Roran muttered, glancing at Vanir. "Riddles aren't a high priority to a blacksmith's son."

"That I can see, Roran-elda, however the alfakyn are also not faring well this year," Vanir replied with a grim smile.

"Ha! The elves have won at least one event each year, I would not be too concerned. I'm sure Loufin will show the elven capabilities in the final test." Roran laughed at Vanir's concern.

_Immortal, beautiful and strong. It is such common perception that the elves are nigh on invincible. How wrong that can be. _Vanir thought to himself as Ginkorin was declared the victor of the second event. The dwarves cheered loudly for their hero, while the other races clapped merely politely.

As his gaze cast over the elven portions of the crowd, Vanir noticed the tense bodies and angry glares at the opposing races. _This does not bode well. _Although Vanir could not be sure of what was to happen, he sensed that the elves were restless.

As the announcer declared the current tally of points; three for each win, and one less for each subsequent placing, Vanir tried to decipher the source of angst among the elves. He was surprised when he recognized only half the elven crowd, but grew concerned when he realized the only elves he knew by name were known to strongly oppose the other races.

"Vanir, what troubles you?" Dahlia murmured next to him.

"Nothing… at least I hope nothing."

Her response was drowned out by a growl of anger from the elves as it was revealed they were positioned equal third with the humans, however it was drowned out by the cheers of the urgals and dwarves. The urgals led by a slim margin over the dwarves, and would be confident going into the final round, a test of agility and speed.

_The sooner this is all over, the better. _Vanir thought, keeping his gaze on the elves among the crowd. He had tried contacting them to calm their minds, but they were guarded by strong mental barriers.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, this year, the final hurdle for each of your representatives, shall be a task of herculean proportions. A climb up a sheer rock face, using naught but the bodies given to them." As the magically enhanced voice was projected amongst the crowd, a sizeable rock mound rose from the ground in the middle of the stadium. "The first competitor to breach the top of the peak shall be declared victor and rewarded with the eternal praise of his race," voice shouted with more enthusiasm than Vanir thought was necessary.

_At least Loufin should be fastest, he has been climbing trees in Du Weldenvarden for decades. _Despite his initial confidence, a worm of doubt forced itself into Vanir's stomach, and he wondered what would happen if Loufin lost this final test. How would the angst-filled elves react?

As the Urgal horn sounded, marking the beginning of the trial, three competitors bolted for the cliff face. Although seemingly small from their vantage point in the wooden stands, Vanir knew it was indeed a difficult task before the competitors. It took him a moment to realize that Loufin had yet to approach the rock wall.

Ginkorin and Nar Garzhvog each fell from the slippery slope, over eager to be the first to the top. However their descent slowed as they fell, magic allowing them to stand, beginning again up the rock face, trying different paths. Albreich was moving considerably slower, however he had not fallen yet, and Roran was shouting encouragement to his old friend. The worm of doubt manifested into a pit of worry as Vanir glanced at the other competitors, making steady progress.

_We cannot lose this. _Vanir thought as Loufin continued to gaze at the rock face, resolutely still.

"LOUFIN, MOVE!" Vanir roared, making Loufin jump. Something was wrong, Vanir knew. But what was it affecting Loufin? _As long as he wins, it shall not matter_, he thought, forcing the morbid ideas from his mind.

_That's better_. Loufin ascended the mountain with haste. The elf seemed to float up the side of the cliff, quickly surpassing the Urgal and Dwarven competitors, who were taking the course with more care. As he reached the feet of Albreich, Loufin stopped, clinging onto the rock like a spider. _Loufin what are you playing at?_ Vanir could not interfere. Magic was strictly prohibited in assisting the competitors, and as such, even touching Loufin's mind would leave the elves disqualified, and disgraced.

* * *

Slowly but surely, Albreich drew away from the stationary elf below him, pausing only slightly as he assessed his path up the rock. Handhelds were few and far between, the space between them wet with silky slime. He did not understand why the elf had stopped, but with another ten metres to go, Albreich was determined to get to the top and secure victory and praise for himself, his town, and his people. He heard a voice cry out above the roar of the crowd, clearly an elven voice, the way the words flowed off the tongue like honey, despite the clear desperation in them.

"LOUFIN! Concentrate! You can win this!"

_Not if I have anything to say about it. _And Albreich hastened, being sure to retain his previous care so as not to fall.

He was shocked when the Loufin soared up the side of the cliff a moment later without nary a backwards glance, merely a few meters from the top. The crowd were ecstatic. The stadium was filled with the light of the elven communities smile. Albreich sighed, knowing he had lost, and no amount of strength could make him catch the elf. Then Loufin fell.

* * *

He did not fall as Nar Garzhvog had fallen, nor Gonkorin. Loufin fell quickly and sharply, no sign of magic slowing his descent. A loud CRACK silenced the stadium as the elven body crumpled on the ground. Then a roar of joy from the humans, as Albriech cleared the top and roared at the top of his lungs, Loufin's state largely ignored. However Vanir's attention was drawn away from the human as a ripple went through the crowd. At first, he could not decipher what was going on, until the flash of steel glinted in the light and it was if a veil was torn from his eyes. Elves were standing in their pews, drawing their weapons, be bow or sword in hand, malice in heart.

_No no no no NO! _ Vanir roared in his mind. Standing up and looking around. Everywhere, Urgals, humans and dwarves fell to the might and anger of the elves.

Vanir turned to Roran and Dahlia, prepared to bundle them out of the stadium and to safety. They would understand he had no part in this, that the actions were not the will of the queen nor the alfakyn as a whole. Before he could utter a word though, a laugh penetrated his very being, and Vanir covered his sensitive ears from the noise diffusing through the air. Those around him did the same as the voice laughed, and it was unlike a laugh Vanir had ever heard before. It was an elf, no doubt, but this laugh would make the birds of the trees cover their chicks in the nest, not fly out of the trees with joy. It was a laugh as old as time, and as powerful as magic itself:

"See, petty humans, and other worthless beings. We, the Alfakyn; are destined to rule you all. We, who were blessed with powers of magic before all else. The elves, who sang life to the forests of Alagaesia. You cannot match the might of the elves. None shall stand against the rule of Laucki, rightful and supreme ruler of the Alfakyn and all Alagaesia. You shall all bow, or you will be crushed under the strength of the fair folk."

_Laucki? Who is Laucki? _Vanir thought, knowing that no elf known as Laucki had been to Ellesmera since at least the fall of the riders and been recorded. There simply was no influential elven leaders or even commoners known as Laucki. However, he opened his mouth once more to try and convince Roran and Dahlia they were safe with him. Roran merely looked at the female urgal, who nodded at him, punched Vanir square in the nose, and all went as black as night.

* * *

As the darkness recessed into the corners of his mind, and a grey blur filled his vision, Vanir looked around the now silent stadium. Bodies were heaped around him. Bodies of humans, urgals and dwarves, blood pooling from horrific wounds in each of them. Every so often, an elven body could be seen, but they were few amongst the dead.

Reaching up to his broken nose, Vanir muttered "Waise heill' along with a complex series of phrases, designed to counter the effects of Roran's right hook. The shattered bones of his face rearranged as the cartilage regained its structural integrity. The throbbing of his head would not cease, and Vanir knew it was not a medical condition he could remedy easily.

_Why did this happen_? He thought miserably. For over a thousand years the elves had been a peaceful race. They rarely went to war, and were as hospitable and united as could reasonably be expected to the other races. To Rule over the other races was something Vanir doubted a majority in Ellesmera had ever considered.

As he got up, Vanir continued to ponder the situation. _Could this really all have stemmed from dragons not hatching for any elf but Arya? _He doubted it. The dismembered voice held more power, authority and a sense of age than Vanir had ever comprehended. It was not a voice Vanir would like to meet the owner of without support of many a dragon and rider.

All the elves had left the stadium, vanishing into the Alagaesian wilderness, or so Vanir hoped. At least there they could do no harm. The sound of tentative footsteps garnered Vanir's attention. It was Roran, hammer in hand.

"You!" Roran snarled, raising his hammer cautiously, dried blood coating his tunic. Vanir cautiously unbuckled his belt, removing his sheathed sword and dagger. Enough blood had been shed this day, and he did not wish to fight Roran Stronghammer under these conditions.

"I mean you no harm" he said, raising his hands in the gesture he knew humans to understand as surrender. He repeated his word in the ancient language, and Roran approached him slowly, however he did not relinquish his weapon to his belt.

"You elves have a lot of explaining to do regarding your actions of late" Roran said, anger consuming his normally calm features.

"Unfortunately, I can explain no more than you have seen today," Vanir replied with a sigh.

"I do not know why the alfakyn…" he almost spat out the word "…have acted as they do, no more than you know why a cat plays with a mouse before eating it. The elves do not eat meat because they find the act of murder abhorrent. What has occurred here today would be blasphemous to elven gods… if we had any."

Vanir sat down on the benches, resigned to whatever Roran would do with him. He closed his eyes to the devastation around him, the chaos of lives needlessly lost. The world would burn with the anger of war once again, homes destroyed, lives shattered, families broken. The pine bench sagged next to him, as the earl sat beside him. "Vanir-vodhr, you are a wise and honorable elf, and despite my earlier actions, I do trust you. Just not those who look like you right now." Roran said grimly, putting his arm around the elven ambassador. Vanir recoiled slightly at the touch, before relaxing, comforted by the heavy arms and weighty words of a companion.

"Who died when the…. Who died when it happened?" Vanir asked, unable to speak of his race.

Roran paused, squeezing Vanir's shoulder. "A lot. All the competitors died, most to arrows. They were all so exposed, Albreich, Nar Garzhvog and Ginkorin. Most others didn't escape. A terrible thing was wrought."

Vanir reeled from the loss of his friends father and the awful reality which was the lost. "And Dahlia?"

"I do not know. I saw her sprinting far from this place when I hid. Whether she was followed or not, I cannot say. There was nobody for me to save, no way I could stop the onslaught. They either ran instantly, or died to the elven advance. So I hid, then came back here to try and find survivors once the army left."

Vanir sighed with slight relief, although he knew Dahlia would never trust him again. He was motionless until Roran stood up and grabbed him violently by the shoulders.

"Stand to attention elf! You are an ambassador, and unless if I'm mistaken, still have a duty to your queen and the races you remain in contact with. Get up. GET UP, or I'll have Eragon give you 100 lashes." Vanir stared at Roran. He had not encountered Stronghammer in the war against Galbatorix, but this sudden and brutal change, along with the determined glint in his eye, told Vanir that Roran was not one to try and defy.

_I need to contact Nasuada and Orik, as well as the Urgal tribes. They must know what is coming. _

Vanir, disgusted by the necessity of his own actions, stood up, before walking briskly to a large human female nearby. He stooped over a pool of blood, silently retching while reaching for the magic within all him.

"Vanir." Roran said pointedly, showing him a mirror as Vanir looked at him.

"Ah. I would appreciate that. This is already unpleasant" He said as he took the mirror from Roran's grip and spoke the ancient words.

An ebony face materialized in the mirror, and Vanir noted Murtagh hovering behind the human queen, Zar'roc loose on the rider's hip. _Perhaps there will be more than one mating of rider and royalty in this lifetime. _

"Vanir, what a pleasant surprise, how did the games go? I trust Albreich held his own reasonably well?"

Vanir paused, before explaining to Nasuada the events of the day. He told the tale blandly and without emotion, leaving no detail spare. She reacted as he expected her to, as he would expect anyone to. Shock, disbelief, anger, and confusion covered her features as Vanir explained the actions of the mysterious group of elves.

"I'll assume Arya and Dathedr had no knowledge of this." Vanir nodded, despite the rhetoric nature of the question.

"Obviously your majesty, all elves should now be treated with utmost caution. As I am not aware of the extent of the revolt, no elf can henceforth be trusted until the Queen or myself say so. Close your gates to elves, and do not offer them hospitality, for you will likely be met with brutality."

Nasuada nodded sadly. "I am sorry to have to do this Vanir. The elves were a greatly respected race."

"In time milady, I pray we may regain that respect that was lost this sad day"

It was then that Murtagh stepped forward. "All due respect Vanir-vodhr, but can we truly believe that our townships can be safe against an elven army? Can any army on Alagaesia stand up to the elves?"

Sighing, Vanir looked at Roran, who replied, having just seen first hand the power of the elves. "No, brother, from what you know, and from what I have seen, few cannot compete against those who seek to destroy all that we've worked for this past decade."

"We need the riders." Vanir said softly. It was not a suggestion.

Nasuada looked at Roran, glanced at Murtagh, who blinked back at her, private words passing between them.

"Yes, it appears we are again in need of Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales."

* * *

It was well and truly dark by the time Vanir had finished discussions with the leaders of Alagaesia.

Roran had stood by Vanir as he contacted first Orik, then Dathedr, and finally Arya and Eragon. Murtagh had contacted the Urgal tribes and warned them of the dangers. Suffice to say, none of the leaders were pleased with the situation.

Orik had been stoic in his decision, and had walled off the known entrances to Tronjheim and the outer cities of dwarves. He expressed concern at the strength of the army, whose whereabouts were yet to be revealed. "If they attack us as one, we will fall like the pieces Isidar Mithrim when the great dragon Saphira broke it. The dwarves cannot hold off an elven attack for long master Vanir. We need the riders."

Dathedr had been shocked at the news of the assault at the games. A call for all the elves in Alagaesia to retreat to Du Weldenvarden had been declared immediately. "We cannot allow the honour of the elves to be shattered with another war. Whoever is behind this plot must be brought to justice. We need the riders Vanir-vodhr. I trust you to make the right decision in this dark hour." Vanir was touched by Dathedr's faith in him. He knew that as the only trustworthy elf who had witnessed the attack, he was best suited to making the executive decision, however the responsibility was still unexpected. As such, he crossed his hand over his chest and bowed to the elven lord before closing the magical connection.

The connection with Arya was short and to the point. She declared her intentions to return immediately and would have orders upon her arrival in Ellesmera. Eragon had been evasive to Vanir's questions, neither committing himself nor ruling out the support of the riders in the current conflict. "I will find out what I know of this Laucki character before we make any rash decisions."

"HOW CAN YOU DO THAT? They killed hundreds, if not thousands of innocents here today!" Vanir screamed at the lead rider, tears streaking down his face.

"Cousin, be reasonable. You cannot surely –"

"Roran. I will not be swayed. There is knowledge here that will be invaluable if we return, and it would be wise to garner as much wisdom on our foe as is possible. I cannot say when the riders will return to protect, only that we will." Eragon paused, waiting for Vanir to gain control of his emotions.

"Vanir. By all reports you have grown strong and wise. Do not let the events of today dishearten you. Nobody expected that the elves would act as they have. It is up to you to relay information between the races so that a counteroffensive may be mounted effectively and efficiently. Roran will be there for you as well."

Vanir bowed once again, reverting to his natural tongue. "Thank you master. I will not fail."

Eragon's face faded to oblivion and Vanir looked at Roran.

"It will be alright, my elven friend. Laucki will be overthrown once the riders return. I have no doubt Eragon is more powerful than we could possibly imagine." Roran said, clapping Vanir on the shoulder.

"Now, it is time to eat. I am in dire need of food. However, the current situation leaves you in a tender predicament. You are not sure who to trust in Ellesmera, are not safe in any of the major human, dwarven or urgal villages, and I don't think it wise for you to wander as we await Eragon's return. Would you like to stay with my wife and I? In Carvahall? We have more than enough room."

Vanir nodded. "You are too generous Roran Stronghammer."

"Aye. That's what you get being related to Eragon." Roran said with a wink.

"Can I have a moment of peace? To mourn those lost today?" Vanir said quietly. Roran merely nodded, and walked quietly to the city of tents around the stadium.

Vanir knelt, bowed his head. And wept. Wept for his friends lost today, not the elves, but the humans, dwarves and urgals he had grown to respect. He wept for the hopelessness he felt, for who could stand against the might of an elven army. He wept for his people, and the anger they held in their hearts.

All the tears of his sadness, he caught in his hand, and as it overflowed with sorrow, he whispered, "Draumr Kopa."

The sight of Dahlia sitting by a campfire mesmerized Vanir as he gazed on his closest friend, safe, and far from here. He let the magic fade, and began to weep again. But the tears were of joy. Joy that all hope was not yet lost.

* * *

**A/N: **Please Review, it really helps me learn what to improve and what is working well. Hope you're enjoying it


	7. Sparring and Learning

Arya thought little of Eragon's closed eyes as she bounded towards the man opposite her, prepared to lay her blade to his neck.

_It will be done swiftly, if you wish to close yourself from the world._ She thought as she swung ebrithil towards his exposed body. As the sword descended, Eragon muttered something, and Brisingr leapt from its sheath, into his hand, and up to block her strike. The flames engulfing Brisingr died as soon as the blades met. And yet still, Eragon's eyes remained closed.

_How?_

_He is strong Arya. He is not the man you once fought in a dwarven sparring ring, nor the man who defeated a king: he is much more._

She heeded her dragon's wise words and began a complex series of blows to overwhelm Eragon's defense. His blade flickered in and out, around his body, blocking with deft skill. Had he been even a fraction slower, she would have cleaved him into pieces. And yet still, his eyes remained resolutely shut.

_A lesson students. If you cannot best your opponent traditionally, surprise them. _Saphira's voice projected into her mind, and clearly the minds of the other apprentices. _A claw or tooth is just as deadly as a sword._

_He is testing me? _Arya asked Firnen incredulously.

_It appears so. Perhaps not testing, but analyzing your skill; ability to adapt. Surprise him, as Saphira instructs._

With a final flash of purest emerald, Arya untangled herself from Eragon, leapt back, and placed her sword flat on the ground; hilt towards Eragon. The dragons watching the bout rumbled and roared, curious as to the meaning of her actions.

However Arya's eyes remained fixed on Eragon's, which snapped open as she stepped out of reach of her sword.

"Good." Was all he said, as he strode towards her, giving ebrithil a tertiary glance as he stepped over and past the green blade.

As he approached, she bowed low, and said in the ancient language, "It seems you are indeed strong, master." As the final word left her lips, Eragon's eyes flashed.

Arya bounded forward as Ebrithil flew from the ground, blade ready to pierce the one obstacle in its way back to its forger.

Eragon turned with a smile and deflected the blade with Brisingr, but could not intercept her flying kick at his hand; Brisingr spun away in the opposite direction.

"Better!" he cried, as Ebrithil landed in Arya's palm. Eragon stood before her, unarmed; waiting for her to pounce.

_Let's see if his old weaknesses are still as prevalent as they once were._ And she smiled seductively at him.

In response, he winked at her.

_Apparently not._ She swung her blade at her foe. He dodged her attack, swaying like a slither of grass in the wind. She growled, and continued to push her attack. Yet she could not scratch the lead rider as he dodged, ducked, dipped and dived around her blade. Before she knew it, she was standing over Brisingr.

_Do not let the same trick that you attempted befall you in reverse Arya. _Firnen rumbled in her mind.

_Aye. I wonder if he likes the feel of his own blade._

Without breaking stride she wheeled over the azure blade, grasping its hilt with her spare hand as her legs sailed over her torso. Her feet landed on solid ground, he stood before her again, a smile on his face, as the green and blue swords faced him.

_Lesson number two students. Being unarmed does not make you truly unarmed. You are dragon riders, not petty soldiers._

As Saphira's voice projected amongst the crowd again, Arya tensed herself, waiting for Eragon to strike with foot or fist, for how else was he armed?

"BRISINGR!" Eragon roared, and she gasped as searing flames burned the palm enclosed around the hilt that was not her own. However she did not hesitate, dropping the blazing sword and swung Ebrithil at his neck with two hands, as he stooped to pick up Brisingr again.

A hand caught her sword wrist, and she found herself looking deep into the eyes of Eragon Shadeslayer once again.

_Lastly little ones, know your opponent._

"I see you" Eragon whispered, perfectly calm despite the raging battle. He nodded to her belly, and she felt a tender prickling in her stomach. She nodded meekly and stepped away, bowing with respect this time. He had beaten her comprehensively.

A cheer went up from the apprentices standing by as they saw their master's victory. They had never seen such swordsmanship or speed from either Arya or Eragon.

Dazhgra approached Eragon and bared his neck. "It seems the legends of your prowess were not exaggerated fire-sword. It is an honour to be your apprentice, however I have one request."

Eragon raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing.

All four apprentices smiled as they said in unison "we want to see more!"

Arya smiled at their enthusiasm. "Well then, how about a little competition for the lead rider. Let us see how powerful he truly is." Again she had trapped him in a situation he would struggle to back out of and received a knowing glare from him, as Saphira snorted in the background.

"Are you sure about this? I will not be lenient if I have to face all the apprentices."

"Not just the apprentices ebrithil, I wish to participate as well." Blodgharm, giving his input. Arya expected her companion to reject this idea, as she knew he had little hope of winning against two elves, an urgal and three competent warriors. To her surprise, and mild concern, he responded eagerly, a glint in his eye.

"It is decided then. I shall spar with all of you at once. However…" he paused dramatically. "…If I should win, you will not ask to train against me until I declare you ready" he finished, gazing at those before him. Saphira told the wild dragons what was to occur, and they roared with joy, hind legs bunching as they leapt to the skies. Violence really was one of the simplest forms of entertainment. As they roared, Eragon stalked off, as far away from the apprentices as he could.

* * *

A vast yet familiar mind touched Arya's as she inspected Ismira's bow and arrow.

_I wish you and your companions luck little ones. Do not forget, you must work as a team to overwhelm my rider. He will not be defeated easily._

_Yes, ebrithil, we will try._ Saphira smiled at her use of the word ebrithil.

_Sheep-biter would have been_ _better_. Saphira teased, howeverArya appreciated Saphira's advice in the coming fight, despite being confident in their abilities. She knew the dwarves were strong fighters before they left Ellesmera, and she had seen first hand the skill of Blodgharm during the war. Dazhgra was no doubt a perfectly capable warrior, Urgal's were not known to be weak in the matters of war.

As she finished inspecting the lithe bow in her hands, Arya looked at Ismira. "Ismira, I have an important role for you." The copper hair bounced as the little girl nodded in acknowledgement of the request.

"When your uncle is distracted, when all of us are fighting him, I want you to shoot at him with your bow. You must wait until we're all attacking him before you use your arrows: that's critical that you wait. Can you do that?"

Ismira nodded to her with a grin. "I'll make sure I do my best."

"I'm sure you will."

Blodgharm approached the two ladies. "The other warriors are aware of what to do. This will not be easy Arya. Do not underestimate him again." She nodded, although she was still partially unconvinced. Turning to the group. "Shall we?" she said.

_I will not underestimate you to the same extent again Eragon, however equally I will not lose again._

A smile lit up his face, never quite reaching his eyes, as the lead rider grinned wolfishly at the approaching force.

* * *

Flashes of colour spotted the earth between him and those who challenged him. The dragons were circling in the heavens, the light casting off their scales onto the grass. However his gaze remained focused on the slender flashes of colour approaching him.

Although he was confident with his strength and skill, there was no way he could defeat his mock enemies without causing embarrassment to some. One way or another, someone would be defeated first, and more likely disheartened because of it. He cursed silently. _Here I was thinking I had avoided most politically challenging situations since the war. How did I end up in this situation?_

_I could make it easy and squash them all at once for you _Saphira snorted in his mind.

_No, I want to have a bit of fun. _A solution was forming in his mind, as five warriors surrounded him, teeth bared and blades ready. Saphira merely rolled her eyes as he forced his blade tip first into the dirt at his feet. _What would Fredric say if he saw that?_

_The Varden weapons-master never dealt with rider's swords. Now help me out for a second._

_As you wish._ Saphira said, before opening her mind entirely to Eragon. He dove in eagerly, seeking to be immersed in all that she could see. His elven eyes unfocused as he gazed down upon the arena, the world taking on a bluish tinge.

"It seems we have you surrounded" Verdra said with a grin. And from the vantage point of his dragon, he could see they did indeed. The two dwarves were in front of Eragon, Dahzgra and Blodgharm to his left and right; while Arya was directly behind him. They all shuffled nervously as he remained silent and motionless. Little did they know he watching their every move with the clarity only a flying hunter can obtain, the ripple of their every muscle clear to Saphira's blue gaze.

By some unspoken signal, five blades simultaneously flashed towards him.

_Thank you, my dearest dragon._ Eragon said as he retained control of his flesh. Without pausing, he leapt for the sky, and five blades crashed against each other a whisper below his tunic. None of them dared to retrieve Brisingr from its earthen sheath, and he laughed as he landed lightly on the hilt of his sapphire blade.

"Is that the best you can do?" He laughed at them, goading them to attacking. In response, three blades swung at him again, while Arya and Blodgharm leapt high, intending to prevent Eragon from avoiding the other three blades.

_They work well as a team _Saphira thought to him as he once again dodged their deadly weapons, while remaining balanced atop Brisingr.

_Aye, however it will all be over shortly._ Blodgharm and Arya landed once more, their positions swapped so that Blodgharm was behind Eragon.

"My turn," he said to them, as their feet began to burn. Neither the apprentices or mentor had noticed the steady flow of energy pouring from Brisingr, heating the earth around them, melting the thin leather soles of their boots, burning their feet.

As each of his opponents jumped from foot to foot, yelping in shock; Eragon leaped off his blade, dragging the sword free before landing on the chest of Blodgharm, knowcking him over. Grinning wickedly, Eragon held the now extinguished blade to the furry neck of his friend. Before he could utter a word, Blodgharm smiled.

"Dead?" the male voice purred at Eragon, trying to cover a low whistle; whose intensity quickly grew.

Eragon pursed his lips as he looked up to see a number of black shafts approaching him rapidly. He plucked the first arrow out of the air, batting away the others before turning to Blodgharm again.

"Dead." Eragon said flatly, and stuck the arrow to the elf's forehead. "Dead people can't distract me" he said with a glare. Blodgharm merely smiled and shrugged.

"It was worth trying."

Eragon stood up, just as the emerald blade of the elven queen swung at him once more. However it was rushed, trying to catch Eragon off-guard while he conversed with Blodgharm. The lead rider stepped to the side and batted Ebrithil away, flicking his sword to Arya's neck.

"Don't say a word. Dead" he muttered at her, before slicing another three arrows in half as they approached his torso. Had he not moved, each one would have struck him right over his heart.

_Barzul! She's just as determined as her father._

_And uncle. _Saphira retorted. _The other dragons are impressed with your skill, however you best finish the fight, or I fear they will join and fight as well. Even you cannot prevail against four or more dragons at once._

_It is done. _Eragon replied, swinging his sword at the dwarves and urgal who had charged at him.

"Reckless, my apprentices. Dead. Dead. Dead." He said to the trio as he disarmed each of them and placed Brisingr against their vital organs one by one with blistering speed. They bowed, and as they did, a final black arrow flew over Verdra's head, crackling as it grazed her hair. Had she not bowed, the arrow would have rendered Verdra 'dead.'

_Impressive. They were willing to sacrifice themselves to provide a chance to defeat me._ Eragon said with pride as he caught the arrow one more time before it hit his forehead, leaping towards the bundle of joy and red hair that he considered his nephew.

"You are out of arrows Ismira. You used the last of them just now. It would be wise to surrender." Eragon called as he loped towards the young girl.

She nodded dejectedly and placed her bow on the ground.

"Thank you" he said quietly as he crossed the final metres to her.

_I have one final lesson for ALL the riders of dragons here with us today. _Saphira roared in their minds. Eragon tried to ask her what was going on, but her mind was closed to him. He looked up in curiosity, as the sun was blocked by the majestic blue of the dragoness, a claw encasing Eragon and knocking the wind out of him.

_Never pick a fight with your dragon. _She said, and the entire company laughed. A presence touched Eragon's mind, and he recognized it as the spell-caster on duty in the scrying room.

_Ebrithil, I apologise for intruding on your privacy, but the elven ambassador seeks an audience with you immediately. I would have notified you in person, however your cousin was adamant that you come with all haste._

"Bad news?" Arya asked, reading his thoughts.

"It seems so. Come, let us all find out what troubles have befallen the nation of Alagaesia, such that our counsel is required."

* * *

"Daddy!" Ismira cried when she saw her father in the scrying mirror. Roran smiled at her, noticing the subtle muscle tone she had developed and the growth spurt she had undergone. Eragon knew how much it would hurt his cousin not to see his daughter grow up, but the situation could not be changed. Saphira and he had decided that all the riders, as well as Blodgharm, would be present to hear the communication from their home.

Eragon glanced at the map, noting the white glow near the western edges of the hadarac desert.

_That's the site of the national competition you instigated_ Saphira said in his mind. He sent her a mental nod of thanks; glad she could remember all the intricate details of their life together.

The lead rider greeted the earl and ambassador, giving the respectful greeting to each, and allowing each of his companions to repeat the procedure, before Eragon continued.

"I must say, I am surprised to hear from you. I did not expect another correspondence until the next egg hatched, and I haven't even had them sent to you yet!" he noted.

"Yes, well… we have a… unique… problem." Vanir started cautiously, before sharing all that had occurred since Ismira's bonding with Selender. The only details missing were the spell Arya had found: only Eragon, Arya and Roran knew of it; and they had told no other soul, save the other half of their own.

Each member of the riders reacted as Eragon expected they would. Dazhgra roared in anger; the dwarves fumed at the elven actions, blodgharm growled dangerously, and Arya's eyes blazed with fire. Ismira looked concerned at the entire affair, while Eragon remained impassive.

_Saphira? _

_You know the answer already little one. I see it in your heart._

_But what of…?_

_The prophecy? I do not know, however you have changed. As Arya noted long ago, you are not the farm boy who hunted in the spine. Neither are you the nervous child consulting with a witch in Teirm. Only time will tell, however we must at least try to return._

_Aye._

_You best return to the discussion at hand, lest words damage relationships beyond repair. _Eragon snapped back to the present, a torrent of angry voices assaulting his hearing.

"QUIET!" Eragon roared, his eyes blazing like the fire both he and the partner of his mind wielded expertly.

The room fell silent. The dwarves gazed down their beards at their feet shamefacedly. Arya looked ready to kill someone. _I have never seen her this angry._

Saphira coughed quietly in his mind and said one phrase.

_That fairth._ Eragon's cheeks burned as he remembered the lustful and naïve fairth he had made all those years ago.

_Will you ever be wrong? Just once would be nice. _He jested.

_Never._

Dazhgra was comforting Ismira gently, the two of them supporting each other; although Eragon could tell the urgal was suppressing his rage.

"As I am sure you would all realize, the elves that Vanir speaks of are not under the leadership of their rightful queen. You are riders, and should not judge an entire race by the actions of a few individuals."

"A few?" Godok snorted, before receiving glares from Arya, Vanir, and curiously for Eragon, Verdra.

"Did the dwarves not once reject Eragon and Saphira because of the legacy of one evil man?" Verdra demanded of the dwarf next to her. "Do not make the same mistake our race once made Godok. Stone is not uniform in its structure, why should one race be?"

Godok grimaced, before bowing in apology towards the elves.

"Thank you Verdra, that was well spoken. Does anybody else have any issues?" He raised an eyebrow at the silence that followed before continuing. "Vanir, your final point was an interesting one. We NEED the riders, you said. However, as keepers of the peace, the riders cannot be bias for or against any one force or any one viewpoint. We will discuss the news you have shared with us and ascertain as to whether we NEED to return as you say, and which side of this conflict we will join. I will find out what I know of this Laucki character before we make any rash decisions."

_Eragon!_ Arya and Firnen shouted in his mind as surprise was echoed across the room.

He glanced at Arya, shooting her a mental question, to which she nodded, still curious as to his attitude to Vanir and Roran's narrative.

"HOW CAN YOU DO THAT? They killed hundreds, if not thousands of innocents here today!" Vanir shouted at Eragon, clearly distressed. Roran stepped forward, support Vanir.

"Cousin, be reasonable. You cannot surely – "

Eragon interrupted him, unwavering in his resolve, making clear his intentions to consider all he had heard. "Arya will return to you almost immediately, she has a responsibility to her people… I cannot say when the riders will return to protect, only that we will."

He sensed the elven ambassador was struggling with his emotions and loyalties.

_Give him something to be proud of, he will need all the support he can get. It would be unwise to let his anger fester._

Eragon thought for a moment about what he could say. It would not be hard, all he had heard of Vanir over the past nine years was praise at his ability to interact with all the races. So Eragon told Vanir as such, giving him orders; something to work for in the dark times.

_Well said little one_

Vanir bowed, thanking Eragon in the ancient language.

Eragon raised a hand to stop his student's questions and Blodgharm's confused stare. "Let us move outside, where the air is cool and fresh. Then, we can talk about what to do."

* * *

**A/N:**

For AxE people. Patience. I want it as much as you. I know one of the genre's I picked was romance, and you haven't had any (bar an almost-kiss and love letter) yet. Be patient. It will happen when the time is right. Don't hate me, I know you've waited four full length books, but I PROMISE I won't leave you hanging like CP did (I'm still raging about that btw, 7 months on)

Until next time, please review‼! If I get enough reviews or comments.


	8. A Dwarven Inheritance

Eragon stepped out of the shadows and into the calm light cast by the moon; just rising from the horizon. He sighed. It had been a long day to say the least, and it was far from over.

"Dazhgra, could you light us a fire?" Eragon asked quietly as he sat on the ground, legs crossed. Figures sat in a semi-circle around him while the urgal shaman muttered a few words of the ancient language and a warm glow lit up the young rider's face. Blodgharm sat just behind the group, not wanting to intrude on their privacy. Eragon accepted his choice, the focus here was the riders, he could discuss extra information with Blodgharm later. Eragon nodded in thanks to Dazhgra and slowly cast his gaze into the curious and angry eyes of his apprentices. Only Arya and Verdra were able to hold his gaze for more than a brief moment.

"What I have to say, I will only say once this night. You must trust me when I say that your concerns will be resolved shortly." He said to the troup, his eyes boring into the flickering tongues of fire keeping them warm.

"Who are you bound to?" Eragon suddenly asked Verdra, sitting to his left. She looked at him with interest.

"Ilumeo?"

"Aye. That is the strongest bond a rider can have. The bond between dragon and partner. A connection of mind and soul. However that is not the only bond in the world. Who else are you bonded to?"

The female dwarf was silent for a moment, considering Eragon's words and her response before nodding to herself.

"I am bonded to the lead rider and my mentors" she replied.

"Good. You are right when you say you are bonded to Blodgharm and I. We are your teachers, and leaders in this place, and thus your allegiance is to our cause." Eragon replied with a gentle smile, before turning to the other dwarven rider.

"Godok, you also are bonded to your dragon, Blodgharm and myself. However, are you bonded to your kin or king of old?"

"Similarly, are any of you, save the queen, bonded to your respective races and their leaders?"

One by one, Dazhgra, Ismira, Godok and Verdra slowly shook their heads. Eragon knew they had forsaken the leadership of their people by leaving Alagaesia. They no longer had any ties of fealty or service to the leaders of their home. It was his role to help them realize their actions.

The steady gaze of the lead rider reflected the warmth that he felt while training his young apprentices, and he was proud of all they had accomplished and learnt in their time with him. He knew above all else, that he had drilled home the importance of deciphering right from wrong, for that was what guided the riders.

"Based upon what has been revealed to you just now, why should we – and yes, I say we – return to Alagaesia and join in battle against the elven forces? We hold no ties to any race or power, so why should we return?"

"Because they killed hundreds of people!" Godok cried, while Ismira nodded, clearly agreeing with the dwarf. Dazhgra and Verdra were silent.

"No. We do not go to war for that reason alone. If killing was a crime in itself, I would be far more guilty than any individual alive. I have slayed beings of every race; elves, shades, ra'zac, dwarves, humans, urgals and even snagli. I have killed kings. Who is to say I should not be brought to 'justice' over my actions?" Godok was silent.

"No." Dazghra spoke up in a guttural tone, "You killed because you had to."

"Could I not have fled Alagaesia, and avoided the bloodshed I caused?" Eragon retorted.

"Yes. You could've" Arya said, looking deep into his eyes across the fire. "You could have run away or hidden from the gaze of Galbatorix. However you did not, because you are a good man. And because you are a good man, you saw that Alagaesia would be a better place without the pain and suffering caused by the mad king. You did not revel in killing needlessly, you were welcoming and kind in every opportunity you were given. It is not because of what has been done that we went to war, but because of what could be if we were free, if the people of Alagaesia were free." She said, tears forming in her eyes.

"Thank you Arya" Eragon said.

_I meant every word ebrithil. _She said as he touched his mind against hers, a gentle presence amongst her raging emotions.

_Arya. Must you be so formal? We are friends and companions, if not more. I am sorry for my actions earlier, I should not have rejected you the way I did._

She paused before replying, her tone gentle and soft.

_Definitely more than friends or companions Eragon. It has been a lonely nine years without you. _She said, enveloping his mind in hers.

A loud thump tore the couple's attention back to the circle, as Ilumeo landed heavily behind Verdra.

_We will discuss this later. _Eragon said with a smile, disengaging from the queen's musical mind.

"Verdra? What is it?" Eragon asked the dwarf.

Ilumeo responded on Verdra's behalf.

_It is time._

"that we shared"

_the story of how_

"Ilumeo, the dragon of truth"

_became bonded with Verdra_

"the daughter of Vermund, who was once leader of The Tears of Anhuin" Verdra finished quietly.

* * *

Godok stared. Ismira looked confused. Dazhgra rumbled quietly. Blodgharm's fur stood on end. Arya raised a curved eyebrow, while Eragon sat back in shock.

_Well. That was unexpected._

_And yet, she means us no harm; of that I am sure. I wish to hear her account in person. _Saphira called, having seen the wild dragons off into the wilderness.

A dull thump sounded behind Eragon as his dearest partner landed in the field where they sat. Verdra looked at the dragoness with sadness, but Saphira merely craned her neck and looked the dwarf directly in the eye.

_I have no doubt you have gone through much hardships Verdra. May there be peace in your hearts from this moment forwards. Do not hesitate now, for as you well know, honesty is the best remedy to pain_ Saphira projected to the dragon and rider, the first of their kind.

Verdra nodded, while Eragon leaned forward again, curious as to her journey becoming a rider.

The young dwarf took a deep breath and began.

"It is said a story is best told from the very beginning. I can see on some of your faces confusion as to what the Tears of Anhuin are. It is that story that I will commence with, before I share with you my past, and how I came to be."

She paused, looking at her fingers curled into fists in her lap.

Ilumeo gave her rider a gentle prod, and the dwarf continued.

"Before the fall of the riders and the rise of the black king, Anhuin was the leader of the richest and oldest clan of dwarves. The clan, whose name has been erased from dwarven history, provided many strong warriors to the service of Vrael, who needs little introduction. The warriors were as hard as stone, and as loyal to their cause as Durok Ornthrond was to moulding Isidar Mithrim. However in the final great battle of Illirea, Galbatorix and his forsworn" she spat out the word "slayed all members of the dwarven clan, except for Anhuin and her guards. It was never revealed why she was spared, however she returned to the Beor's and wept for the loss of her people. She soon died of grief, overcome by the sadness that held her. Since then, the clan I was born and raised in have been entirely opposed dragons and dragon riders. The clan known as Az Sweldn rak Anhuin."

In the silence that followed, Godok cleared his throat, declaring. "I too, am aware of the history of the clans Verdra, however it does not reveal why you are here. I mean no offense by this, however my curiosity has been piqued at your earlier declaration."

Verdra exhaled, the fall of her chest visible even in the low light. She did not respond to Godok's comment, but continued her tale.

"For years following the fall, we kept to ourselves. We cared not for the comings and goings of the other races, the clan sought only to rebuild the power and prestige it had once held. We created oaths, pacts and dark weapons, seeking to cast down any riders that may rise up. Whether they sought to free Alagaesia or further its slavery to Galbatorix, Az Sweldn rak Anhuin were prepared to ensure the downfall of any rider less powerful than Galbatorix."

Ilumeo continued for Verdra, who had paused once more. By now the other dragons had landed and were gazing at Ilumeo and Verdra intently, their wings rustling against their sides.

_Then the rumors came. That an egg had been stolen from the king. An egg of deepest blue. Vermund wanted nothing but to destroy the egg before it could hatch for a rider. But to his regret, the egg was safely transported to and from the Varden by the elven ambassador, Arya. Numerous attacks to steal and destroy the egg were undertaken, however none were successful._

Arya's eyebrows shot up at this news. "I was not aware of any attempt to steal Saphira's egg!"

Verdra cursed bitterly, "the dwarves who were sent to do the deed were disguised and protected to the highest degree."

Eragon recalled his inability to sense the dwarven assassins during the clanmeet that concluded with Orik's crowning. "Was one of the protections to allow their minds to remain undetected?" he asked the dwarf, who nodded, before continuing with her narrative once more.

"From the moment I was born, my father raised me to follow his ideals. Dragons were evil, their riders had to be killed in any means possible. They were weak, I was told. I could not use magic then, however in every other regard I was trained to follow my fathers wishes without question. And I never questioned them, intent that I may grow to be leader of the clan, the dwarven race, and destroyer of the dragons. Then he arrived."

The fire Dazhgra had lit flared up for a moment, and inexplicably, the shapes of Eragon and Saphira appeared in the smoke, a silhouette against the fire. A cry of "Brisingr" and a roar that could not be mistaken as anyone's but Saphira's permeated the air, tickling the ears of those around the circle.

"I was twelve years old when Eragon Argetlam arrived at the doors to Farthern Dur. While many of the dwarves and humans cheered his arrival, I led my clan in the cries of anger and outrage that a rider - the very thing that needed to be destroyed – was let into our home and refuge."

Eragon delved into his memories of that day. It had all been a blur, fleeing the urgal force, protecting Arya. But as Saphira and he analysed the faces of the crowd in their mind, they saw a now familiar face glaring at them from afar.

"I remember you now. You were right at the back, your eyes never left mine." He stated to her. Dazhgra, Ismira, and Godok shifted uncomfortably.

"Aye. I hated you and everything you stood for. For that prejudice I am sorry"

Eragon shook his head, "You were forgiven the moment you became a rider under my tutelage, do not dwell on the past"

_Thank you ebrithil. We will continue to serve you with our entire being and to the best of our abilities._

"The next twelve months I am sure I do not need to retell, save that Vermund ordered Eragon's assassination during the clanmeet. I am now thankful they did not succeed. The rest of the tale you know, up until Eragon left Alagaesia two dragon eggs." At Verdra's statement, Arya elicited a slight sob, although Eragon was not sure if he imagined it, such was the brevity and volume of the noise.

Ilumeo rumbled. The dragon was most famililar with the next portion of the tale, and it was one he would not have changed for the world.

"When the silver egg was given to Orik, Az Sweldn rak Anhuin were overjoyed. It was an ideal opportunity to begin the destruction of the riders. They could not aim to destroy Eragon Kingkiller physically, but if the riders did not flourish, there would be no hope for the world."

Eragon nodded at this. "Had you been successful, it would have caused Saphira, myself and... our companions, great anger and grief. I do not know what I would have done, but none of us would be here today to tell of it I think."

"It is a good thing we were not successful then. Ilumeo had not hatched for any of the dwarves, and I was tasked to ensure the destruction of the egg and the dragon inside. I was given enchanted weapons that would hopefully pierce the shell and poison the dragon inside. It was my father's greatest pride, as he had forged the weapon himself, and had his greatest spellcasters enchant it. He was no longer ruler of the clan, and saw me as a means to his rise to power. It was the eve of my fourteenth birthday, and I was charged with orders to destroy the silver dragon egg. Vanir and the elves had been distracted by a commotion and it sat there; free for me to destroy."

"I was not aware of the process to becoming a dragon rider. I had been raised to believe it was a sacrilegious and dark bond that only caused pain in the world. Before I destroyed the object glowing at me, I felt urged to touch it. I laid a palm on the cool surface, and could feel the warmth of a creature beneath. It was then that Vanir caught me, at the same moment a loud crack filled the air."

Eragon smiled now fullu, encouraging his apprentice to continue.

"At first he did not realize the implications of the sound; he merely assumed I had tried and succeeded to crack the egg with the enchanted hammer. To be honest, I was in shock, for a little snout, as pure as the treasures all dwarves covet, was forcing its way out of the egg. Its inability to defend itself was clear, it was like a little puppy, finding its way in the world."

_It would be wise to refrain from comparing me to a canine, _Ilumeo said dryly, to which Verdra smiled.

"Once Vanir had me subdued, he realized the squawking nearby." Verdra paused with a smirk. "It is with great pride that I can say I saw an elven ambassador's jaw drop, as if dislocated from the rest of his head. I knew from that moment, that I would be unable to kill any creature that small and beautiful. I was allowed to touch the great beast I am proud to call my partner. The fire and ice in my veins from our connection was simultaneously the most joyous and painful experience of my life. I knew I could not truly return to my clan, but could sense a great and powerful journey beginning."

Verdra smiled, before finally saying proudly, "Everything I knew about them was wrong. I had truth thrust into my life."

Eragon chuckled at her play on words. The others round the fire were smiling, the dragons paying their respects to Ilumeo and Verdra.

"The reason I tell you this is to warn you of the price of war. Revenge does not benefit any man, woman, dwarf, elf, dragon, urgal, or kull. Revenge destroys trust. The riders should never engage in battle, whether it be a battle of words or sword, unless we are sure of our motives and reasons. We will always have a choice in this world, and it is our responsibility to make the right one."

Eragon stood up, and gazed into his companions face.

"I think I can speak for all of us when I say thank you for sharing your story with us Verdra. It is not easy to admit your mistakes, and I believe we all have learnt a lot from what you have experienced. It cannot have been an easy journey for you. However I am glad for the change Ilumeo has wrought in you, as my foster-brother clearly saw when you were examined in Farthen Dur. Now…"

Right on cue, Ismira yawned, unable to contain herself any longer. Eragon smiled.

"Now, it is time for rest. Ismira and Godok, you are dismissed. I have some final things I wish to discuss with Dazhgra, Verdra and the queen. Blodgharm could you also leave us in peace? We shall discuss the events of today in the morning my friend. You look tired though, get some rest."

The elf nodded, rising with the two less experienced riders, as Verdra and Dazhgra looked on curiously. Arya smiled when Eragon sent her his thoughts at what was to occur that night.

_I shall meet you and the dragons there. _Eragon said to Saphira.

_We will be waiting. _Saphira said, before communing with the three remaining dragons and launching her body into the sky once more.

_It has been a long day._

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, thank you so much for reading, I truly hope you enjoy it. If you don't please review and tell me why and where I'm wrong (i'm being serious btw).


	9. Secrets

**A/N: **There are (at the bottom) some Q/A things for those who have asked questions/made comments about certain plot points. Oh, and a sneak peak of a couple of things. ;)

To everyone who's reviewed: thanks so much! If you have questions or particular comments I will generally respond by PM, unless I think the question is one many could be having, but everyone else, your support is sooo great, really helps keep me motivated to come back and keep this up.

To those who picked up grammatical errors. Urgh, sorry again, I'll try fix any I find (or you point out).

Anyways, on with the chapter. Enjoy.

* * *

His muscles aching, Eragon made his way up the mountain path, almost indecipherable amongst the rocks that were strewn among the trees. Despite his strength and endurance, even he grew tired after that many emotional, physical and mental struggles. He did not talk to anyone, nor comment on anything, as he made his way to the watchtower that looked over the surrounding countryside. The stones crunched under the feet of his followers, the soft scent of pine filling his nostrils, as they ascended above the height of the highest point in the citadel. The faint crash of the malevolent ocean audible to his sensitive ears.

None of his companions complained about the ascent or questioned what was to happen.

_I am glad your students are showing some restraint. Ilumeo and Mor'kan can't stop shuffling on the spot._ Saphira snarled in his mind, annoyed at her students lack of patience.

_Were you not once the same when something exciting was to happen?_

_How is that relevant? You and I were in a very different situation when anything exciting happened, we were both much younger. But let us not dwell on the past little one, the future is here with us now._

Eragon sent a mental nod to his dearest companion, she who had stood by him through the good and bad times. He was glad she was here, for he was nervous as to what he was about to undertake. It was a ceremony that had not been acted upon for over one-hundred years. As his thoughts trailed off he stepped out of the treeline and looked up at the great watchtower.

Standing taller than Saphira was long, the tower was supplied to support a dragon and rider team for a month without having to venture from the thick stone walls. The cylindrical architecture would weather over time, until the rock was as smooth as marble. An access hole was located near the top, for dragons to enter by. A thick parapet ran round the upper edge of the building, ensuring none would accidentally fall off, or unintentionally gain access.

As Verdra, Dazhgra and Arya joined him at the base of the tower, Eragon muttered a few words, and the curved stones folded back on themselves, revealling a portal to the dragon hold within the tower. No-one said anything as the quartet entered the archway, and it closed silently behind them, the stonework reforming seamlessly.

_We're here. You're waiting at the top?_

_Naturally. We have no reason to be anywhere else. _Saphira said patiently.

_My apologies. My brain is addled from the trials of the day._

A slow stream of energy permeated their link, as Saphira poured her love and energy into his failing body.

_Thank you Saphira._ Eragon said as he climbed the stairs to the outer roof, glimpses of the dark land visible through the small windows next to the stairs. He smiled at the dragons in a circle on the battlements.

_Brom's stories of old never really did justice to the majesty of the dragons._

_Can words ever get close to describing a dragon in full?_

_I guess not. _Eragon smiled wanely, walking up to her sapphire neck and rubbing the spot under her jaw that she loved him scratching so much. They smiled at each other as Arya gasped at the marble statue of Vrael and Umaroth in full battle armor. A render of Islingr pointed towards the ocean, at precisely the angle needed to reach Alagaesia from the watchtower. Verdra and Dazhgra looked at the queen, forgetting she had never seen the statue of the lead rider.

"It's impressive, is it not, Arya Drottning?" Verdra stated

"Indeed. How did you create this Eragon? Was it with help from the -"

_He had help, however now is not the time for questions, all will be revealed shortly _Saphira interrupted, as Eragon walked up to his predecessor, and placed his right palm on the snout of Umaroth. The air around him shimmered. Verdra, Dazhgra and Arya spoke, asking him questions, however their voices were lost to him. Once his silvery palm had touched the snout of the great dragon, all sound was isolated.

So as to not prolong his friend's confusion, he spoke Saphira's true name to the dragon, then, looking right at Arya, spoke his own true name, a quiver running up his spine. She smiled as she recognised the shapes his lips formed, although she could not hear his words. He stepped back from the figure, his apprentices cries clear now. However their mouths gaped and were silent when the image of Vrael melted to the stone, seemingly burning a small hole through the centre of the tower.

"Dazhgra, Verdra. Saphira and I have decided, after consulting with OUR mentors, that you and your dragons are ready to learn the secrets of the riders. I suggest you all strap yourselves to your dragon's saddle." Eragon said clearly and slowly, before nodding to Arya. The dwarf and urgal climbed onto their respective dragon's back, looking confused at what Eragon had said. For who could be HIS mentors. Eragon smiled at the thought, remembering the day he had met Umaroth and the other elders of the dragon race.

_You best do the same. _Saphira projected to Arya, who nodded in response.

_Your turn beautiful! _Eragon smiled at Saphira as he leapt into the saddle on her back. She stepped forward, her snout covering the recently made hole. At an unspoken signal, fire erupted from her jaws, bathing the captive audience in a blue light, cold leaving their limbs as blue flames spouted from the maws of the most impressive creature in the land. Shortly after, Eragon patted her thick neck, and immediately her jaws snapped shut, the rim of the hole glowing cherry red.

_Do you remember the spell I used while with the Varden to transport the eldunari? _Eragon asked the queen.

Arya thought for a moment. _I remember the effects of it, however the wording escapes me._

_It is of no matter, except the eldunari enchanted the interior of this building to act the same if a rider repeats the ritual you just saw. The floor and furnishings are compacted into a infintessimally small point on one of the walls until we enter the chamber. _

_Ah. That seems a bit –_

_-uneccessary? Over the top? I did think that. But getting to the watch-tower is difficult if you do not know the way or ride a dragon. And only a rider who knows Saphira or my true names can enter the caverns below. It is a fairly secure way of protecting the secrets of the riders. _

As he spoke, Verdra and Dazhgra gasped at the small entrance which was rapidly gaining in size as the stonework melted into darkness. The floor was disappearing underneath the dragons before their eyes, so they unfurled their wings and hovered above the now-gaping hole, darker than the night sky around them.

* * *

_It has begun. _Eragon spoke in her mind, as Saphira leapt from the battlements and hovered in the air, the stone no longer supporting her weight. She grinned with pleasure at the startled looks on her partner-of-mind's-hatchlings as their dragons leapt into the air also, a black darkness replacing the stonework that topped the safe-protecting-tower. A faint glow could be seen in the middle of the darkness, almost indistinguishable.

_Enough of this. Let us fly._ She said with satisfaction, as Eragon groaned in her mind.

_Not too fast. You remember what happened last time. You spent the next two days fretting that I had left vomit over your scales._

_If you weren't so weak stomached we would've been fine. Who has ever heard of a rider who can't stomach the most exhilarating feelings in the world? Now hush._

With a final roar, she folded her wings, and tilted her powerful body, falling into the darkness.

_Come! _She roared into the minds of those who waited at the top. Flying really was the greatest gift. _How he walks around each day is beyond me. Why not fly everywhere? _Saphira thought to herself as she grew giddy from the speeds they were reaching, the glow of light growing bigger and bigger.

_SAPHIRA! _Eragon roared in their mind. She felt his mind envelope hers.

_Yes little – LITTLE ONE! _She roared to him, as her wings spread themselves without her permission.

_I was falling off Saphira. The others will not be able to keep up without disaster befalling us._

_You opened my wings._

_It was that or poke you with brisingr until you paid attention to me. _Eragon retorted.

If only he understood.

* * *

As she dived, the dark-hole-tunnel-entrance had widened, deep within the protective wing of the mountain. She could now see the alcoves as they neared the base of the mountain, each one filled with a glitter, one sapphire blue, many green, brown, yellow, gold and every colour Saphira had seen across the lands. She roared in welcome to the heart-of-hearts around the room, wriggling with excitement at the site of the dragon eggs. Many additional eggs had been bound-spell-magic-given to the riders for future generations. The past nine years had not been idle time for the wild dragons. She sighed inwardly to herself, saddened that she had been apart from her dearest mate for so long. With a final contraction of her powerful shoulders, Saphira slowed their descent and landed silently on the lush floor.

A cavity in the floor glowed with fire from the deepest regions of the ground, providing warmth to the mentors of her race, the purple kullchest-dragonhead-twoleg standing to one side. The orange glow of fire lit his eyes and Saphira purred at him while the other dragons landed with a thud, unable to completely stop their rapid descent. A look of awe covered each visitor's face as they gazed upon the sight; some comprehending the visage before them, some not.

Once their gazes fixed upon Eragon-wise-shadslayer-protector-partner, he stepped aside, allowing Cuaroc's eyes to bore into them as they were rooted in place. Saphira grimaced at the need for Cuaroc to examine their minds, she remembered the waves of power washing away the sandy barriers of her mind, invading every thought and memory. Almost as soon as it started, Cuaroc finished his inspection, and Eragon began to speak.

"I am sorry for that, but it was necessary, for around you is the greatest secret of the riders, the one thing that must be protected at all costs; the eldunari, or heart of hearts, of the fallen dragons"

* * *

"What are Eldoonarghi?" Dazhgra stumbled over the word.

In response Eragon looked at Saphira, "it might be best if Saphira spoke of it, the legacy of her race."

He took a step back and sat on the muscular foreleg of a greater being than he could possibly imagine. She spoke slowly and clearly, sharing memories where necessary. With love and affection, the senior dragoness of her race shared their most guarded secret with a dwarf and urgal. For Eragon and Saphira had seen and been told of their decency, care and power in battle. They had seen the rider's strength grow, each developing intricacies, changing as their bonds deepened. It was a humbling experience for he and Saphira.

As Saphira educated Verdra and Dazghra on the eldunari, Eragon reflected on the day he had learned of their best hope at defeating Galbatorix.

"_Still alive … ?" _he had asked Glaedr as the collosal dragon had lain in the grass. The following conversation had changed his outlook on the war; given him hope and something to aim for other than merely slaying the black king. Eragon remembered his anger at Saphira when it was revealed she had withheld the existence and importance of the eldunari from him.

Similar, and indeed predictable reactions came from each of the young riders before Eragon and Saphira. Surprise and confusion was etched across Verdra's face, while Dazhgra seemed disappointed that Morrkan had deigned not to share the secret with him.

_I am pleased they are not angry. _Saphira purred in Eragon's mind.

_Aye, they are much wiser than I was when I was told of the heart of hearts. _

Saphira nudged his shoulder in comfort.

_Little one, they have been under your wing for far longer than we were with Oromis-elda. You and I were just hatchlings, Ilumeo, Morrkan and their riders are almost fully grown._

_Thank you, Saphira. _She hummed in acknowledgement as their minds were filled with the voices of the eldunari. Eragon had asked them to remain silent until Saphira had finished explaining their presence to the riders. Umaroth touched their minds warmly.

_Well spoken Brightscales. Your descriptions of our soul stones were as accurate and detailed as we could have asked. The hatchlings will become great riders._

The vast mind retreated, leaving Saphira and Eragon to converse with Glaedr and the other eldunari seeking their attention. Arya was walking around, holding some eldunari and greeting them personally, but generally showing great respect to the elders of the dragon race.

Verdra had tears in her eyes as she communed with Umaroth.

_Her path has been a difficult one. _Glaedr mentioned to Eragon, as he looked at Dazhgra, whose jaw hung loosely, clearly at a loss for words. Ilumeo and Morrkan were bellowing in joy as they sent raw images and feelings to the eldest eldunari, understanding passing between them as only dragons could.

Eragon shook his head ruefully. _Even with Saphira, the logic of dragons surpasses my understanding. _

Firnen had been speaking to Glaedr alone for a moment when he shuffled over and leant against Saphira's shoulder, nuzzling her neck. Saphira snorted in surprise but then relaxed as she saw her mate's affection. Eragon raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Eventually Arya joined Firnen, sitting between his two forelegs, closing her eyes and resting. Eragon consulted with Saphira, and with her blessing, poured a steady stream of energy to his dear friend. Immediately, Arya's eyes whipped open, seeking Eragon's form as she looked him a question. He merely smiled and she relaxed back into the warmth of her dragon.

Morrkan and Dazghra walked over; the latter in a state of stupor, before both bowed at Eragon and Saphira.

_Thank you ebrithil. _Dazhgra looked up at the honorific term his grey dragon used, before nodding once, smiling.

"Fire-sword, you and Fire-tongue are the greatest friend the Urgralgra and my race owes a debt that cannot be filled. But for us, this debt is even greater. You have shown us kindness and taught us a life without always clashing horns."

"It was an honour Dazhgra" Eragon replied in the ancient language, smilling at the urgal, as Verdra approached, having finished her long talk with Umaroth, who was glowing brightly in the warm light of the fire. She too payed her respects to Eragon and Saphira.

Eragon stood up, taking a deep breath. This was the culmination of his unceasing work over the past nine years. The words he had burned into his memory months ago sprang forth of their own volition.

"Verdra, rider of Ilumeo, the dragon of truth. Dazhgra, rider of Morrkan…" they looked at Eragon.

"Over the many years you have been here, Saphira and I have been impressed with your ability to learn and adapt. Both of you come from cultures that were eager to go to war with the other races. However, with the help of your dragons, you have proven your trueness of heart."

_For this reason, Eragon and I wish to declare you as full riders. You are no longer hatchlings, eager to bite your own tail…_

"…You have a lifetime of learning ahead of you. Saphira and I cannot facilitate this learning, but should you ever need help we will do all within our power to aid your cause."

* * *

And so it was that Verdra Vermundsdaugher and the Urgal shaman Dazhgra were pronounced full riders, no longer under the tutelage of Eragon Shadeslayer. Arya Drottning stood by silently, as witness to the historic event.

As the final words were spoken, sealing the new riders fate, all inhabitants of Evarinya Mor'ranr woke with a start, as a mental roar of joy rolled over the seas.

Across the eastern border of Alagaesia, creatures of all sizes stopped and looked to the east, the magnitude of the situation not lost on nature; flower heads turning to the east and trees growing still and silent. A new age approached, the darkness forgotten if for a moment.

* * *

She looked up at Ilumeo in awe.

_Who would have thought? Me, Daughter of the hated Vermund, a dragon rider? _Verdra thought to herself

_I would not have chosen anyone other than you._

As she processed her dragons words, the vast and incomprehensible mind of Umaroth enveloped her and the group guarded by Cuaroc.

_We, the eldunari, have decided after much deliberation, that each of the newest riders shall be granted one eldunari for their journeys beyond this place. They will be your guide and mentor, and will supplement your energy stores in battle. However I caution you, do not rely on their power, nor abuse their trust, for you will experience the wrath of the dragons if that should come to pass._

Verdra looked to Dazhgra, a glimmer in their eyes as the silver guardian collected two bright stones of soul from their alcove in the wall. Eragon accepted the eldunari from Cuaroc, taking one in each hand, smiling reverently at the dragon souls in his palm. Leather boots brushed the warm floor as the lead rider - garbed in simple but elegant azure clothes laced with golden thread_ -_ approached her, warmth radiating from his features.

It took all her self restraint to keep her face impassive, but the hint of a smile couldn't be wiped off her face as Eragon held out his arm, a ruby-red eldunari resting in his palm. Verdra gazed deep into the recesses of the deep crimson of the eldunari. Swirls of fire could be inside, giving the immediate area a beautiful glow.

"Look after him, he has experienced a difficult life." Eragon spoke quietly to her. "He can tell you the rest."

Verdra nodded in response, words lost as the mind of a power and ancient dragon was revealed to her in its entirety.

Once she had regained control of her immediate thoughts and functionality, Verdra looked over to Dazhgra, Ilumeo continuing to speak reverently to the eldunari in her hand. Dazhgra looked as stunned as she had felt moments ago. Sharing the entire consciousness of a dragon was, even for a rider, a humbling experience.

After a mental nudge from their dragons, Verdra and Dazghra bowed as one at Eragon, Saphira, Cuaroc and Umaroth. Words alone could not express their gratitude to them all.

_Little one, we should depart. Saphira and Firnen grow restless, though they hide it from the two-legs. The elven queen will leave for Alagaesia shortly, and ebrithil has much to discuss with her.._

_The truth is as you say, my beautiful dragon. Shall we?_

And with a final smile and wave, she climbed the silver foreleg of her dragon, getting comfortable in the leather saddle that fitted her body so well. Without a word, Ilumeo's muscled tensed underneath her before springing the silver arrow into the darkness, Morrkan next to them. Verdra smiled to herself as she clung to the neck spike in front of her. She had never felt so at peace, her dragons wings beating next to her, minds joined as they flew for the adventures and world that awaited them.

* * *

_Stop squirming. Why are you so nervous?_

_I'm not squirming! And besides, I should be nervous, this is the only time I've been completely alone with Arya. Roran and Ismira were nearby last time. Why shouldn't I be nervous? She tried to – well, you know what she tried to do!_

_You two-legs act funny around each other._

Eragon sighed to himself, as Arya held Glaedr's eldunari close to her chest, speaking quietly with the golden dragon. He kept his expression blank, although his heart was burning in his chest. He had admitted his love for Arya in writing, and his true name had not changed, he was unsure as to how she felt after the incident by the fire. Unsure of what to do, Eragon reached out for his dragon's mind, but encountered walls as high as the beor mountains. Saphira had blocked her mind from him and was looking into Firnen's emerald eyes intensely.

"Saphira?" Eragon spoke, touching a hand to her side. The sapphire scales of her neck rippled as she turned towards him, a wicked smile lighting up her features.

"What are you doing?" Eragon narrowed his eyes.

"Firnen!" Arya exclaimed.

"He's not talking to you either?"

Arya shook her head in response, her features creasing as she frowned at the male dragon.

_You both must do something before we leave this place. _Saphria projected to them, closing her mind as her words ceased: an impenetrable fortress.

"OH!" Eragon exclaimed. "I had forgotten." And he strode towards the chest next to the wall, muttering phrases under his breath as he approached. Saphira growled quietly, but Eragon ignored her, his focus distracted temporarily.

With a loud click, the chest opened, well oiled hinges making barely a rustle as a piece of flimsy was revealed as the sole content of the chest. Projecting his thoughts to Umaroth and the hundreds of Eldunari lining the chamber, Eragon spoke quickly and clearly.

"Umaroth, when I shared with you the evil spell inscribed on this document, I was unaware of who led the forces seeking to manipulate the dragons once more." a dark rage built in his mind, as the eldunari's thoughts affected his own. None of them had forgotten the affects of Galbatorix's meddling, and many of the eldunari had not broken free from their psychosis even after years of freedom. The eldest were still magically subdued so their anger would not corrupt the unborn dragons in their eggs.

Suppressing the anger building in their minds, Eragon continued. "However today, the elven ambassador was attacked at the annual games I instigated all those years ago. The force behind the attack revealed himself, clearly unafraid of the powers of Alagaesia."

"Who is it that led the attack Shadeslayer? The eldunari were not aware of this event, our thoughts were cast elsewhere."

"It seems that a man, elven I assume, is leading the attacks. He claims to be known as Laucki." Arya spoke quietly, regret filling her eyes. Eragon looked on sadly, unable to help his dear friend.

"No elf with evil intentions has passed through Ellesmera or Doru Areaba in our life time, and certainly none known as Laucki!"

As Umaroth projected the thoughts to the eldunari in the chamber, a mental roar shattered the defences of those present. Cuaroc stumbled in his position; Arya and Eragon covered their ears instinctively, though the noise and power was purely mental. They could do nothing but writhe in helplessness until the force subsided and left their minds.

* * *

Time had no meaning as Eragon lay on the warm floor, his head throbbing from the anger unleashed upon them. Days could have passed without meaning, seconds feeling like years as his mind was assaulted by waves of anger.

_What was that? _He managed as the storm abated after an indeterminable length of time.

_I do not know, at least not fully. _Umaroth managed. _The sound you heard was the roar of the oldest eldunari captured by Galbatorix. A wild dragon, born before the rise of the riders many thousands of years ago._ _We do not know where Galbatorix found the soul, for it was not one kept with any rider. Nor do we know anything about the mind of this dragon, as it was subdued with powerful spells even before the death of the king._

He whose rage had consumed those within the chamber was now silent in the alcove high above their heads. Eragon tentatively touched the mind of the dragon, soothing the dragon and sending images of peace, trying to show that he meant no harm. A subtle rage still filled the dragon's mind, however he was once again locked in a world of his own making, ignoring those around him, unresponsive to the real world.

"I don't think he will need sedating any longer, and even if he did, I doubt we could calm him" Eragon spoke quietly, looking towards Umaroth's eldunari.

_I agree. It seems this is not the first evil deed the elf you spoke of has committed. However there are no eldunari who are as old as he. We cannot provide answers to your questions._

Eragon rested his face in his hands, the path before him unclear.

_Eragon, do not despair. Although we cannot identify or teach you of this threat with certainty, we can still help your quest for peace_. Glaedr spoke warmly to Eragon, who nodded his head in thanks at his mentor.

_The being of which you speak is obviously old beyond comprehension, with power and influence to persuade the elves to rebel against their queen and country. There is one in Ellesmera who may have the answers you seek. You must go to her, for her knowledge and experience is key to your success. I will not reveal who, you must solve this riddle on your own._

Eragon looked at Arya. "You don't think its…?"

"She's the eldest elf in the city. Even I do not know her true age." Arya replied with a shrug.

Eragon nodded non-commitedly, before bowing to the eldunari in the room. "Thank you ebrithilar."

"Eragon. Firnen is still unresponsive to my touch."

"Saphira. We did as was required. We asked about L – him" Eragon demanded, glancing at the Royal blue Eldunari high above them. Saphira merely stooped and looked at Eragon, eyes sparkling, swaying her neck between him and Arya.

Arya frowned and moved to sit on Firnen's foreleg. As she sat though, the dragon moved his leg, forcing her to stand.

"Firnen!" Arya exclaimed. No matter how she tried, the green dragon refused to let Arya rest against or on him. After a time, a rumbled escaped his and Saphira's throats, a soothing harmony filling the room. Without warning, the eldunari around the room began to vibrate, each giving off their own individual note. The sound was familiar to Eragon, and before long he noticed the underlying tune that filled the cavern.

"Saphira. No!" Eragon stated, grabbing the neck of his dragon and looking her in the eyes.

"What is it?"

"Do you recognise the tune?" Eragon asked.

"It sounds familiar, I cannot place where I once heard it"

"You may have heard it in your time as ambassador, it is the song for a human dance. They want us to dance."

Saphira and Firnen's heads bobbed up and down at once. Arya looked once more between the two dragons, her face conflicted.

"You're determined to continue down this path?" Eragon asked the room. A glow of confirmation from the eldunari made him snarl in resignation.

_Saphira? Oh, you're not even there. I haven't ever asked someone to dance, let alone Arya! I'll get you for this Saphira. _He glared once more at his dragon, before straightening and turning to Arya, his hand held out.

"It seems we have little choice Arya Drottning. May I have this dance?"

She looked from his impassive face, to the slightly wavering hand he held out, before the edge of her lips curled up and she took his arms in her own, and they began to circle the room slowly, keeping each other at arms length.

"Arya – I'm sorry for this."

"It is not your fault Eragon. Do not blame yourself for the things you cannot control."

"You should not either." Arya looked up sharply at this, her grip on his hand tightening as she raised a curved eyebrow.

"Everything that has happened in Alagaesia. You could not control the actions of all the elves, and if you tried to, you would be as Galbatorix was; a tyrant over the people. I hate to see you sad Arya, you know that."

"I know," she whispered so softly he could have imagined it.

"Now, despite the circumstances for this situation, let us enjoy this dance." He smiled down at her, and she nodded with a grim smile.

As they span together, bodies apart, the two graceful beings could not help but step on each other, mumbling apologies to each other. Unbeknownst to them, Firnen looked at Saphira, who nodded to a mental question, and the pace of the reverberating music increased.

"Saphira?" Eragon asked uselessly. _We cannot sustain this pace without injuring each other _he projected, regardless of whether she would care, or listen._  
_

_The way you two are fumbling about, it would appear that you will bite each other's tail. Now DANCE!_

The link was closed as soon as it was open, leaving Eragon to apologise again to Arya for his misplaced foot, before looking into her eyes once more. A smile escaped his lips, and he drew the elven queen closer to him. They still did not touch, however they had halved the gap between them.

Immediately their technique together improved, and they smiled at each other, feeling their partner move in time with the beat. Both male and female relaxed into the dance, losing themselves to the music. They did not notice the slow tempo increase as the two eldest living dragons rubbed their necks together.

As the pace increased and their dancing became more elaborate, the gap separating the two bodies decreased, until they were flush against each other. At this connection, Firnen and Saphira hummed louder, the music unending. Eragon looked deep into the eyes of the elf against him. A spark passed between them, washed away in the emerald eyes of the woman he loved. The music yet again grew faster, the two bodies unable to keep up with the pace. Arya had closed her eyes and was dancing through instinct, trusting Eragon to move with her.

_Now little ones. _Firnen and Saphira projected into the rider's minds.

Releasing the restrictions they had held in place for so long, Eragon and Arya melded their beings subconsciously, finally at peace with each other. They did not lust after each other, but understood with empathy the trials they had endured for nine years apart. Arya laughed, the pealing sound bringing joy to their hearts. Yet they could not tell who had truly laughed, as Arya's leg was his leg, his leg hers. Eragon flashed between seeing himself and seeing Arya, their beings linked, swaying as one with the music, their body a blur as they weaved seamlessly in and out of each other.

Before long, the music slowed, decreasing in volume, until Eragon broke away from Arya's mind and looked at her, panting at the exertion the dance had induced in them.

"Thank you Arya-svitkona. It was an honour to dance with you this evening."

She smiled. "Perhaps you should thank our conniving dragons."

He glared at Saphira.

_It was for your own good. _She said simply.

_Then you are content for us to leave?_

_I think so. Our point has been made._

"Eragon" Arya said quietly, tears in her eyes. "I cannot stay here with the riders."

"I know. No more than I could stay all those years ago. I will follow in two days time with the riders, we will fly for Ellesmera and meet you there."

She took his hand in hers, and looking into his eyes, whispered his name: his love for her undiminished in their significance to his being. He shuddered, and whispered the ancient summary of the elven queen. She shuddered, and he smiled sadly. _She has not changed. Duty rules her life._

_Can you say that one dance would change all that?_

_I had hoped._

_Give it time little one. Arya loves you. She just…_

_She can't yet understand the value of your bond Eragon-friend. _Firnen murmered to Eragon, blocking Arya temporarily.

"What is it?" she asked him, her eyes glimmering.

"Nothing." He lied.

"I can't stay Eragon. I can't abandon my people."

He nodded, letting his hand drop to his side, and smiled, although her knew it would come out more as a grimace. She turned away, mounting Firnen, who nuzzled Saphira's snout once more, before taking off for the night sky above.

Although both riders knew they would reunite in Alagaesia, parting ways tore at them, each feeling their pierce of their heart as they lost sight of their dearest friend.

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, thanks everyone who's been reading this. Especially to those who review.

**Comments to previous reviewers (R: reviewer - A: answer)**

**R:** inthehood raised the point about Eragon's true name potentially changing due to his extra wisdom strength etc etc.

**A:** Firstly, this is a good spot. I can't remember if I had mentioned Eragon's true name changing in an earlier chapter (I'll have a look regardless). Initially, one of my drafts for the AxE evolution early on was going to be Eragon's name having changed, hence my intrigue at your question.

In terms of whether his name changed, I would say no for a few reasons. These reasons are basically conjecture, and just my opinion:

a) An increase in power wouldn't necessarily be something that would change a true name. I believe they are based MORE on 'inner' properties/emotions etc.

b) It is true that over nine years Eragon's wisdom has increased significantly; however his motivations and reasoning for what he does is the same or very similar: he wants to re-establish the riders.

c) Also, the changes that have been wrought upon Eragon are not significant enough to have induced a name-change. As above, just my opinion. shrugs

But seriously inthehood, thanks for raising that, reaffirms that Eragon/Arya can't undergo big emotional changes without something coming of it.

**R:** AwesomeDragonGirl noted another fan-fic which had Arya and Eragon 'forced' together.

**A:** In retrospect, I think I too have read that fanfic; especially if Eragon had to jump off a really tall tower. If thats not the story you mean, I can't remember any other situation. But yeah, I actually had completely forgotten about that, and wasn't my intention of having a similar(ish) situation.

**R: **llIMagic raised a point about Arya's forthrightness around the campfire in chapter 2 (I think it was chapter two anyways :s )

**A: **You're right when you say Arya was fairly forward with Eragon around the fire. I'm going to go with the excuse that she was fairly emotional after the events occuring earlier in the evening:

a) Eragon being back to some extent

b) Elves attacking Eragon

c) Elves trying to control a dragon

d) ERAGON BEING BACK  
But basically, it was OOC for Arya, a slip on my behalf. That's why I love reviews which pick up things. Unfortunately, that scene was reasonably pivotal to the events that followed, and I like the Angela scene too much to try and change it round. Sorry

Thanks to everyone, once again. You're the best :)


	10. Unwelcome and Unexpected

**A/N: **This chapter continued to be a struggle. Urgh, words were just not flowing. However, I made it, just.

For those of you who keep up to date with Inheritance news, CP has announced he will release a deluxe edition of Inheritance, including a letter from Jeod regarding the events following the conclusion of the story. It is to be released on October 23rd.

In the event that both the extras in this edition of Inheritance resolve all my concerns with the ending (primarily AxE plus some other tidbits) **and** this fanfic is still a while away from completion, I may (MAY) reconsider the worth of continuing. At the moment however, it's full steam ahead. So no stress. And I'm still enjoying writing this, so it's all good.

For now, here is chapter 10: Unwelcome and Unexpected. I've edited the preview a bit, in response to Apple Jaxx comments (thanks for that) so if you have already read the preview, you may want to touch on it again, I don't think there are any MAJOR changes (my brain is a bit addled).

To the a few of the other reviewers who I didn't respond to privately (if you're not mentioned here, I'm yet to do it. Soon, I promise. I haven't forgotten you)

A small watermelon – you can subscribe to stories; means you'll only check back once every day, just in you're your email dies for whatever reason ;)

Yokiin: your review made me laugh. Thank you; I had just watched that movie the other day, still soooo good.

All my other reviewers, you guys (and girls) are great. I can't say how helpful/encouraging/thought-provoking it is to get reviews which challenge/uplift/critique my chapters; its great and keeps me honest, and coming back to write more.

**ANYWAYS: **on with the chapter. Unexpected and Unwelcome

* * *

Sparks shot into the clear night sky as the fire keeping the travellers warm crackled in delight at the dry wood being added to the growing pile of hot coals.

One of the men by the fire looked up, grey eyes assessing the figure opposite him. _Men cannot be so flexible. _Roran thought to himself as he looked at his companion sitting immobile, legs crossed at acute angles. The man appeared to be Vanir, ambassador to the elves - except for key facial details. The pointed ears, characteristic of the elves were rounded, and the eyes of the man were flatter than any elven eyes could naturally be. As Roran watched, Vanir ran a tired hand over his face, and the elegant elven features returned.

The two men had decided to avoid drawing attention to themselves on their journey to Carvahall. Although Roran was a hero to the empire, and Vanir was an honest man; they felt the presence of an elf would not be welcome in the cities of Alagaesia given the recent attacks. The magical alterations to the elven ambassador's face had been a precautionary measure to ensure maximum stealth. To Roran's chagrin, Vanir had spoken little during their travels from the stadium, only the sparsest of niceties exchanged between them.

Something was clearly plaguing the elf's mind. Vanir's head hung loosely from his neck, face taut and strained; his gaze cast resolutely at his clenched hands resting in his lap. Roran was not going to let silence and dejection dominate their journey to Carvahall together.

"What troubles you Vanir? This silence is making the hairs on my neck stand on end. Speak friend."

"fricai" Vanir muttered.

"pardon?"

Vanir looked up, silently assessing Roran before responding. "Friend. Friends. Humans and other mortal races place so much value on friendship and other emotional ties that bind each other, yet the elves subdue the practise." The elven ambassador laughed harshly, his knuckles grinding together.

Roran paused. Vanir was obviously distressed about the situation they were currently in. He would have to tread lightly to encourage and support the man who felt so responsible for the wider actions of the elves.

"Friends and relationships are what define the short lived races. We may bicker and fight more openly than the immortal, but the bonds of love are something that provide comfort and strength when we are weak. It balances out in most cases."

Again, Vanir paused before responding, his once sharp eyes glazed over as they absorbed the light of the fire, a slight grimace clouding his features. "I do not have many true friends at home. I was… popular, yes. Admired, yes. Respected even, yes. But not liked. I had few people who I could trust in entirely. Even after the war, I didn't have many elven friends. And yet, the other races welcomed me with open arms. Humans, dwarves… and urgals."

"Some welcomed you more warmly than others?" Roran queried. He knew of Vanir's friendship with Dahlia. _Maybe that is what troubles him._

Vanir's gaze flickered upwards, eyes piercing Roran, who stared back, unflinching; an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Yes, some more than others. But no welcome or relationship that a human would call love or anything beyond strong friendship. She understood me, the trials I had to undertake in my role. She listened, and was interested in what I had to say."

Roran smiled gently, his hands resting by his side as he leant back to relax. "That is the mark of a true friend Vanir-vodhr, you would do well to repair her broken heart. Losing a father is not something to be dealt with alone."

"You speak as if from experience"

"Aye"

Vanir stared at Roran, silently waiting for him to elaborate.

Roran cursed, sitting up and crossing his arms. He glared with steely intent at the ambassador.

"Damn you elves and your stubbornness"

Vanir laughed. "If stubbornness is a trait shown exclusively by the elves, I fear you may be more elf than man, Roran Stronghammer"

Roran huffed in amusement, before relenting and leaning forward.

"What you have to understand is, for a very long time, I did not know of Saphira, and even when I was told of my cousin's role in the war effort; I struggled to believe. How could my little cousin, a brother to me, be a dragon rider? For a start, the riders were wiped out, dead, gone. A legend or myth. The whole idea was preposterous. Until I arrived at the battle of the Burning Plains, I could not fully believe that Eragon was a rider, that Saphira had hatched for him. He did not tell his closest family that the blue stone he had found in the spine was actually a dragon egg. He hid Saphira from us, keeping her a secret. He did not warn us, nor protect us when our town was threatened by the king. His cowardice caused the death of my father." Roran finished bitterly. Wounds which he thought had healed sprung up again, unbidden.

Vanir was silent for a moment, lost in thought, before he responded.

"If there is one thing I learned about Eragon Bromson during our mutual time in this land; it is that he cares more for the safety of those close to him than he does for himself. I have little doubt that he was desperately trying to protect you and your father by removing himself from your lives. His decision may have caused your father's death, and left you on your own to deal with the aftermath, however it was not cowardice which spurred his actions."

Roran blinked, arm frozen in midair. He had been ready to rebuke Vanir's statements. _He couldn't understand how I felt. He wasn't there -_ _And yet he is right. Eragon did not act with malice, but compassion. _Roran frowned, his arm lowering as it sought its opposite to hold. He knew all Vanir's reasoning before, had debated the very arguments in his mind years ago. Roran shook his head; he had let his emotions run away with him.

"I know. It is hard, to this day, to cope with the grief of losing your father. I must apologise for my comments earlier. I spoke out of turn."

"It is of no concern Roran Stronghammer. In the past, many have been wrong about Eragon Kingkiller." Vanir emphasised the suffix. "I underestimated his abilities, as did many of the elves. Even the queen, both past and present, did not realise his strength, not just magical or physical, but his strength of character and heart."

Roran nodded, and a companionable silence filled the air, broken only by the sounds emitted from the glowing flames, and the chill wind that kept them wrapped tightly in their cloaks and shivering from time to time.

"I wonder what he's doing right now," Roran muttered to himself. Vanir's tapered ears twitched at the soft noise.

"I would say he is probably spending time with mine queen" Vanir replied with a grin.

"That would be good for him - and her actually. Nine years apart from the one you love, at least from Eragon's perspective, is a very long time."

"He does truly love her then?" Vanir asked, genuinely curious. No one had ever specifically stated Eragon's feelings for Arya publicly, he had only heard rumours and whispers amongst the trees of Du Weldenvarden.

Roran laughed.

"Eragon's love for her is as strong as the will of a dragon. Whether she reciprocates those feelings is another matter entirely."

"I believe she does, although others may disagree. Over the years of this new era; on occasions her eyes will glaze over, as if she wishes to be somewhere else. She may not realise, but she glances to the eastern horizon frequently, and there is nought of major significance to the east, save the one man who secured freedom for us all."

Roran grunted, slightly amused at the situation his cousin had found himself in. Vanir grimaced as thoughts poured through his mind, unable to escape the actions that had brought about the need for Eragon to return to Alagaesia.

"When will he come back Roran? You know as well as I that we need the full strength of the riders to bring peace to Alagaesia once more." Vanir's eyes pleaded at Roran, desperate for a positive answer, one that would inspire hope for the nation.

"I would not worry, for you will have joined the void long before any sign of the blue rider" – A laugh filled the air, as elves materialised from the darkness around them, weapons drawn.

* * *

Roran and Vanir jumped up, their weapons leaping to their hands, as if joyous at the opportunity to shed the blood of the traitors before them. Twenty elves circled the makeshift camp, swords and spears by their sides. They were in no rush. Despite the prestigious reputation of their adversaries, one human and an emotional elf would be of little concern.

"What do you want with us?" Roran asked, as he moved around the fire until he was back-to-back with Vanir.

A few of the elves laughed with mirth. It was not a laugh that brought joy to the land, but a cold, cruel grating that made Vanir and Roran grimace. Notably, a number of their elven adversaries twinged at the sound, before regaining control of their emotions.

"Is it not clear, Roran Stronghammer? We want you dead. Lost to the void. Deceased. Broken. Cleaved in two. I don't actually mind how it occurs, but our master wishes it to be an emotional death for your cousin. To be honest, I'll be happy to fulfil his request. Imagine the rage that will encompass the Shadeslayer - hero to the world - when he finds out his home town has been razed to the ground, and his dearest cousin mutilated at the hands of the elves."

The leader of the squad of elves grinned as he spoke, his jet black armour moving fluidly as the circle of elves closed in on the pair. Vanir struggled to focus on the matte paint covering the steel, for it gave no reflections, even in the brightness of the fire, the only way to easily identify their position was watching the movement of their head, and blades, which had not been coated in the dark paint. Roran's eyes widened as the elf spoke. Fear was pushed aside as rage filled his very being.

"What have you done with my family?" he roared. A number of the elves laughed, while Vanir's eyes tightened when a few gazes avoided his, sadness within their irises.

"Nothing" – the leader responded again.

Another elf stepped forward with a sly grin. "Wrong answer Korling. The human asked what we did to his family, not what we left standing in his town"

Vanir shook his head sadly. "It is a sad day when elves take pride and joy from the destruction of innocent beings."

"It is a sad day when the elves are not the supreme race of Alagaesia." Korling retorted. The elves nodded in agreement

"You'll pay" was Roran's contribution to the discussion before he stepped towards the second elf who had spoken, and swung his hammer vertically, catching him off-guard, and shattering his skull instantly.

The group were silent for a moment, as the lifeless body crumpled, Vanir moving to stand back to back with Roran once more and snarling at the rest of the group.

"Supreme race? Beaten by a human? This is a sadder day than I thought"

Korling said nothing, just glaring at Vanir and Roran, the latter standing stock still as he stared down each of his opponents, assessing their strengths and weaknesses. _A simple bash to the head would do the trick for all of them, but I'm not likely to get a chance now._ He noticed the plates of armour seemed to fit very tightly to the bodies of the elves. _Perhaps if I can dent their armour and slow them down, we may have a – who am I kidding, we will be slaughtered against this sort of strength._

As the pressure of Vanir's back abated from Roran's own, he glanced to the rear, for no sounds of battle were filling his ears.

His jaw dropped as his neck prickled, Vanir's slender blade pressing icily against his neck. The blade nicked his neck and he winced at the pain. The elf could not seem to hold his blade steadily, his eyes unfocused as if waging a battle inside.

"You two faced coward Vanir."

"Roran, I was wrong. Elves are the supreme race, we deserve to rule. And now, it is finished for you Stronghammer. You will die, as did the town of Carvahall."

* * *

_NO!_

_Yes! _The voices chanted in Vanir's mind as he struggled against the strength of the elves. Vanir had barely noticed that many of the elves attacks on his soul were weaker than those Korling and the leaders; before he felt his mouth open and began to speak of untruths and events that Vanir wished never to happen.

_You cannot do this! _He roared as he pressed against Korling's strength.

_We're not. You are. You will be the one to destroy Roran Stronghammer. And once we are done here, you will join us, like the rest of your kin._

_Never._ Vanir cried, forming a barrier in his mind, the image of Zar'roc breaking his arm his sole focus. Korling and the elves were forced away briefly, allowing Vanir a moment of clear thought.

"Roran, I am sorry! They have me" before he screamed briefly, losing control of his body once more.

When he looked at Roran once more, the blade in his hand was still. He could do nothing but stare and struggle as his blade began its ascent to vertical, rising above his head.

_Why doesn't he run while he can?_

_We have ensured Stronghammer's cooperation in this exercise. The magic was fairly simple to secure him in place._

Vanir began squirming again in his mind, trying to save the last of his sanity, the darkness closing in as his eyesight was overtaken by the darkness invading his mind. There was little he could do to stop the onslaught.

_I have failed my Queen. I have failed Roran. I have failed my people. I have failed Dahlia. I have failed Eragon._

Vanir almost smiled as he recalled the first time he had heard the roar of Saphira in Ellesmera. It was an all encompassing sound, penetrating every barrier in the world. The pride of a dragon, unstoppable.

It was with this thought that Vanir forced himself once more against Korling, the cornerstone of their strength against him. A blue roar filled Vanir's mind, pushing out the darkness. He began to see again, feel the sword in his hand as it descended towards his friend Roran.

_No!_ He shouted, and as the blade reached the human's head, with the last of his power, Vanir twisted the blade, the flat of the sword concussing Roran.

Vanir wasted no time.

"Thrysta." He shouted, and a ball of coalesced air forced half the elves away from him, his energy dropping alarmingly as they flew hundreds of meters, his rage causing him to release more power than sensible. He turned, five sets of dark armour descending upon him. Vanir backpedalled furiously, blade swiping at spear and sword without remorse. Korling led the attack, his black broadsword sweeping a deadly arc before him, while the spears of the four elves with him seemed slow, as if they were unpractised with the weapons. Nonetheless Vanir snarled as one breached his defences, slicing his side, warm blood trickling down his jerkin.

"Brisingr" he shouted, caution forsaken as he continued to use magic regardless of the consequences. They had broken into his mind once, and he would kill as many as he could before they did it again. Korling muttered a counterspell and the blazes that had once been elves were extinguished.

"You will join us Vanir. Have no doubt about that. Even if you kill all the soldiers here, you WILL see the light." Korling spoke in the ancient language, his blade cutting across Vanir's vest, millimetres from the skin. Vanir stumbled as his boot caught on a small rock, and he fell on his back. The broadsword swung up once more, as Korling wielded the massive blade as if it was a twig, smiling with malice all the while. He was in complete control, and relished every moment of it.

"How does it feel ambassador to the races? Knowing this is the last thought you will have control of? Do tell me when you see our way of thinking. I would be most intrigued."

A flicker of movement caught Vanir's eye as he reflected on his life. Living in Ellesmera with his parents, training, sparring, and forcing himself to be better, so that a dragon would hatch for him once an egg was secured. Battling against Eragon, both with will and sword. The crack of his breaking arm, and the transformation that entailed. All these things and more Vanir digested before a soft, shadowy blur like the motion of a windblown pennant filtered through the corner of his vision. Making no sound at all, Korling stiffened and fell to the ground, his sword still parallel to his body. He was dead. A slight groan drifted towards Vanir as he began to black out..

"I had forgotten how draining that was. Solembum, please help our guest. Roran requires my attention. It seems I spend most of my adventures addressing their many injuries and embellishments; and saving their lives the rest of the time."

The last thing Vanir saw as his weary eyes collapsed was a strange herbalist walk past, a large cat with oversized paws and bright red eyes padded over to him.

* * *

Vanir groaned loudly as he sat up.

"A simple hello would have sufficed."

Vanir looked at the strange lady opposite him. Dressed in flowing clothes of riotous colours, a female human of rather short stature was mixing an iron pot that hung over the fire, which glowed a brilliant yellow, as if fuelled by the sun.

"Who are you?" Vanir asked, although he had a suspicion. He had heard rumors of a strange woman who came and went with the times. She went by many names, although none knew her real name, in either the elven tongue or the human's.

"A friend. Eka ai fricai"

"How do I know I can trust you?" Despite the woman's words, Vanir was uncertain as to her motives. Words in the ancient language could be twisted.

"You can't! I did save you from that batty-elf before you know, so there's that"

"Thank you"

"Oh it was nothing. Well, actually, it wasn't, but that sounded like the right thing to say."

Vanir bowed. "Thank you, regardless of what it meant. May I ask you a question?"

"I believe you did, but continue."

"Can you tell me what's in that pot?" The green potion was bubbling alarmingly, but the herbalist continued to stir and add ingredients, mumbling to herself, ignoring the bright flashes of rainbow that sprouted from the concoction. With his acute hearing he could hear the words she spoke, but the sentences made little sense, the words a combination of the languages he knew, and some words which baffled him completely.

"I could tell you what's in that pot"

"Will you tell me what's in that pot?"

"Yes." She continued to mutter to herself, glancing around every so often, her eyes darting like birds amongst the trees. Vanir blinked rapidly, unsure of how to react to this strange, and clearly mad, woman.

"Oh for goodness sake, you never learn do you?" the herbalist cried suddenly. Vanir jumped at the unexpected sound. He was on edge after the ambush, unsure of if there were more elves out there or whether he should or could trust this lady.

"For your information, ambassador, I am concocting a lotion which should revive Mr. Stronghammer here nice and quickly. It seems his head isn't quite as strong as his hammer."

Vanir's eyes formed a slit as he looked once more at the herbalist. The large cat growled menacingly, as it paced around the fire; red eyes watching Vanir. He watched closely, ignoring the cat as the woman ladelled a portion of the lumpy potion into Roran's mouth, using her hand to cup his face slightly.

"I should say, he likely won't remember the last few moments before his concussion, and I'm not sure he's ready for the answers to his questions just yet." The herbalist looked at Vanir pointedly as she stepped back, the cat leaping onto Roran's bare chest, licking the man's face gently.

"Urgh, yuk, gerroffme" Roran spluttered dully as his eyes snapped open.

"A simple thank you would have sufficed."

Roran looked at the cat mewling on his chest, his eyes still glazed over.

"A talking cat." He stated flatly, no trace of humour evidenced in his voice

The 'cat' growled menacingly once more, claws digging into his chest, widening and clearing his eyes and foggy mind.

"Solembum!"

"That's nice" the herbalist snarled. "He gets the first response and hello, but did nothing for your recovery. Typical, I should have expected nothing less. You are Eragon's cousin after all."

Roran looked around, and spying the herbalist nearly shouted, "Angela! You're here!"

"No, it appears I am just a figment of your over-excited imagination from your concussion. That's why Vanir can see me as well."

Roran pursed his lips, trying to understand.

"They never learn." She muttered.

* * *

Roran drank the soup Angela had cooked for the group loudly, relishing its vitalising taste. Warmth was flowing through his limbs once more as the soup disappeared rapidly from his bowl. He still felt like he was missing a piece of the story Vanir and Angela had told him of attacking elves and Vanir losing control of his mind. He was determined to find out what was going on.

"I am curious Angela. How did you kill the elves who ambushed us?"

"Magic" she winked. He sighed.

Vanir spoke up, his curiosity piqued. He had yet to learn of the spell she had utilised to destroy over a dozen elves instantly.

"Stronghammer asks a valid question, what did you do to them?" he asked, hoping to get enough of an idea to formulate the words in the ancient language.

"It was quite simple actually," she paused, taking a sip of her soup as the gentlemen leaned inwards. Solembum smiled contentedly as she stroked his back. "I killed them."

Roran cursed, rolling his eyes.

"How though?" Vanir asked, exasperation creeping into his voice.

"Magic."

Roran paused for a moment, thinking over the problem. He looked the herbalist in the eye and asked, "Angela, what is the wording of the spell you used to kill the elves who attacked Vanir and I?"

"Well, since you asked, I shall tell you. What is time but motion? And what is motion but heat? And are not heat and energy but different names for the same thing? When you understand the implications of that, you'll understand how and what I did. Until then, we must travel for Ellesmera, and along the way meet with the survivors of Carvahall."

"WHAT?" Roran jumped to his feet, knocking over the small bowl and spoon he had been eating from. Vanir gazed at him cautiously, while Angela merely nodded to Solembum.

"Yes, I think he is as ready as he'll ever be." Angela set aside her bowl, and motioned for Roran to sit.

"It seems Laucki and his bantam rooster troupe of corrupted elves are seeking to destroy the legacy of Eragon Shadeslayer. Why? I do not know, except that they attacked and destroyed Carvahall, then proceeded along the same route taken by our young rider all those years ago."

"Why did I not feel it through my –"

"Through your ring? The gift Eragon gave you for you and your beloved? Because Katrina is perfectly safe, along with the rest of your family; actually, I can't speak for Eragon. He's probably off chasing a giant in the east, completely oblivious to the important things of life, such as toads and frogs, although toads actually don't exist; so he is just ignorant of toads and their subsequent species. Fascinating really."

Roran slumped at hearing of his wife and children's safety. "Where are they?"

"How am I to know? I am but a simple herbalist."

Roran did not drop his gaze.

"He's stubborn isn't he?" Angela commented to Vanir, who would have smirked except for the look on Roran's face. He may not be an elf, but Roran Stronghammer's strength had been tried and tested as unyielding as a shade's.

"Last I saw, Katrina and your children were in the deep reaches of the spine. Something had caused them to leave Carvahall, searching for a rather useless herb, and fortune smiled on them, for the elves attacked while they were absent. My understanding is that they too make their way to Ellesmera with a few others of your village."

"Thank you." Roran bowed from his seated position.

"It's nothing. Well, not nothing, but you get the idea."

Vanir smiled quietly. He liked the strange herbalist and her unpredictable nature. Her exuberant nature was catchy, and made the group smile when they should have been weeping from the loss of their friends, family, households, and in many respects; the loss of their sanity.

"It will be nice to be home once more." Vanir muttered to himself, not wanting to offend Roran with his tactlessness.

_It is not for a holiday that we go to Ellesmera, Vanir-vodhr. Unless if you consider a meeting with the senior-most riders of the world to discuss how to deal with the threat a holiday. Which you might, if so please let me know, I have a new contraption I wish to test. Unfortunately, I killed all the elves last night, else I would have used on them. _A vast and incomprehensible mind touched Vanir's briefly, before he raised his mental barriers.

Angela looked at him closely. "Heed my words Vanir, take extreme caution when we return to Ellesmera. Not all is as it seems."

* * *

**A/N:**

Thanks again. It's really encouraging to get the "SUCHANDSUCH123 has subscribed to your story" :D

Anyways, I need to sleep. Apologies to those who have already reviewed chapter 10, and can't review it again, just PM me if its anything important.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'll be back soonish.


	11. Flight and Fight

**A/N:** What's this? Chapter 11 finished :O :O :O

Uploader has been playing games with me. Can't seem to add the chapter. If you're reading this I have succeeded. ;)

**Disclaimer (because I feel like it):** I'm not Christopher Paolini, neither do I own any of the characters/plot points/places in this story. It is called a FAN-fiction for a reason. It's fictional, and its by a fan. :)

What a waste of time that disclaimer was/is. Sorry if you read it everyone.

As a quick aside/temperer of expectations. I'm taking this week off, completely. Not going to do any work on this fan-fic. period. I feel like I need to rest and let the story settle for a bit. So chapter 12 will be up in about a week and a half. Unless if I have a brilliant wave of inspiration. But don't hold your breath. Seriously don't, I don't want to have to explain to the police why people are dying, the only link between them being my story :/ :P :)

Also, I've delayed Eragon's return to Alagaesia by one more chapter (don't worry, the extra chapter will be fairly short and succinct, and just a bit of fun tidbits/comparisons which I thought might be nice). It'll have lots of dragon POVs, and alot of useless banter. But I'm going to make it fun.

To reviewers:

||IMagic: you're a champ, thanks :)

Guest who pointed out chapter 5 and 6 are repeats: WOOPS! I had been going back and making slight grammatical/spelling/etc changes, and must have stuffed up a chapter. Should be fixed now. You know who you are, so good pick up :)

inthehood: thank you sir for the rather hilarious failure of my naming the elf mentioned in the previous chapter.

Jelly: WOOOO! Nobody else had gotten that (I don't think). Top effort!

theartofbeingaverage: yes, well done. not as good integration into the story, but yeah, that was a skyrim reference.

Oncealways: To be honest, I had never heard of Joseph Conrad or his story Heart of Darkness. I will consider changing the title of this fan-fic. But no, that wasn't the reference :P

Alas, enough of this banter, on with the story. Chapter 11.

* * *

…_Arduna. Brisingr. Arget. Fethr. Deloi. Kvekya. Laufsblad. _Godok reeled off the words from his hurting mind, straining to remember all that Eragon had taught.

_Well spoken Godok, you have a strong mind for the features of the earth. Firesword will be pleased I think, with what you remember. _Dazhgra spoke to Godok, finishing their recital of words in the ancient language.

_Thank you - _Godok paused while Jonkirn completed a tight loop to float behind Mor'kan, snapping at the charcoal dragon's tail.

_- Thank you Ebrithil. _Godok bowed in his mind, the movement difficult from the saddle of a dragon.

Dazghra grunted. _Do not call me that Godok, we are friends. Such formality is not required here. _

Godok nodded with both his mind and physique. The two graduate riders had decided to postpone their own adventures and had joined those returning to Alagaesia. Pleased with their decision, Eragon had asked if they would tutor the two newer riders during their flight to the homeland. Both Verdra and Dazhgra had gleefully accepted, and then excelled at their roll, leaving Eragon time to think of the challenges ahead.

_The hatchling is a good flier, he has been a pricking-thorn-pain with his quick-fast movements. I sense you are pleased with the littlest ones efforts also._

_Aye, firesword will be happy with their efforts. Jonkirn is quite handsome yes? His scales shimmer like the fire-sky-ball._ Mor'kan rumbled gleefully.

_Mor'kan, you find Jonkirn, a worthy mate?_

Mor'kan snorted, her grey snout billow smoke momentarily.

_No, I just find the hatchling to be… glowing._

_Glowing? _

_Yes. Glowing. _Mor'kan cut the connection abruptly, not wanting Dazhgra to feel her emotions.

Dazhgra shook his head, feeling the tip of his horns, which Eragon had allowed to begin to grow on their week long journey back to Alagaesia. Glancing over to Selender and Ismira, diving out of the clouds at Ilumeo and Verdra, then to Saphira, who was flying higher than Mor'kan had ever reached, Glaedr providing energy to sustain the height, Dazhgra thought it was going to be a very interesting flight.

* * *

_Glaedr-elda, why is the sky above us dark, yet the land below bright?_

_Eragon, many things in the world are inexplicable, and many things that are not, I cannot explain. This is one of the latter._

_Aye master._

_Now let us return to a reasonable height, where my energy is not expended keeping us aloft._

Without needing to be asked twice, Saphira glided until both she and Eragon found breathing easy, the horizon becoming flat once more. The time in the highest reaches of the sky provided a stark reality to the insignificance of many of the issues that faced the leaders of the riders. It allowed Eragon, Saphira and an Eldunari time away from all other life forms, completely alone.

_Look at Selender Saphira. I don't think even you could perform a dive like that at their age._

Saphira snorted. She struggled to accept Selender's inane ability to learn flying techniques. Although the young dragoness' endurance was yet to develop, she could fly exceptionally well for short periods of time.

_Ilumeo will not be beaten by a hatchling, he is too proud._

_And you are not proud, my dearest dragon?_

Saphira snorted again.

_If Ilumeo was as majestic as even one of my scales, he would have my permission to be proud._

Eragon just smiled, affectionately rubbing the neck of his partner.

_Let us see what Ilumeo does._

Dragon and rider spread their consciousness to encompass all creatures nearby, from the smallest fish, to the four great dragons below them. They watched and listened to the comings and goings of all nature around them. As Saphira had predicted, Ilumeo spun away from Selender's dive, the bronze dragon continuing to plummet towards the ocean before levelling off and gliding, claws brushing the calm surface, as Ismira laughed with exhilaration.

Without the height provided by dragon-back, neither Selender nor Ismira noticed the shadow that passed underneath them. The four other riders and dragons noticed, having heard the loud exclamation of joy, the three furthest away only realising the significance of the shadow.

_Nidhwal! Dive Saphira. _Glaedr roared in their minds.

_Verdra. Ilumeo, do not approach. Likewise Dazhgra and Godok. Stay away! This foe is beyond any of you._

_Ebrithil, the texts say Nidhwal only reside in the western seas._

Glaedr snapped mentally at Dazhgra. _It would appear the texts are now incomplete. Do as Eragon says._

Saphira roared with fire as she dived. Such was their speed that the flames were swept behind them. Had any casual observers been watching, they would have thought to be seeing a blue meteor fall to the ocean surface.

_Selender. Ismira! Fly! Do not hesitate! Move now!_

_Fly you fools!_

_Move little ones! Get away!_

The combined shouting of Eragon, Glaedr and Saphira spurred those in peril to begin to climb back to the heavens. The three eldunari poured strength into Selender, quickening her ascent. Explanations as to the source of the power could wait.

* * *

As the bronze dragon rose into the sky, a wall of water splashed around them, and a great beast broke the calm surface of the sea. An angular head, with jaws capable of swallowing a horse or small dragon whole, rose to consume those that had crossed its path.

Dazhgra and Verdra attacked the mind of the creature, but as Eragon had found in the western seas, the Nidhwal cared not for anything but easing its insatiable hunger, its tentacle writhing, grasping towards Ismira.

Time slowed for Eragon as Saphira dived. It was clear Ismira was not going to escape the beast of the ocean, but until they were lost, the lead rider and dragon were determined to save them.

A desperate plan formed in his mind, and without hesitation he roared phrases in the ancient language as Saphira dove towards the head of the beast.

At first little seemed to change, but then the water coating the black hide of the nidhwal began to shimmer and waver, coming alive. Steam began to out of the mouth of the Nidhwal as rapidly as Eragon felt energy seep from his body, limbs becoming cold. As the jaws encapsulated Selender's hind legs, the body of the beast began to shrivel and dry, before combusting, searing Selender's tail. With finality, Saphira rammed into the side of the carcass, a loud crack punctuating the strength of the dragon. Eragon saw none of this, his mind lost as he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Firnen, can we make a slight detour before we return?_

_You don't have to ask Arya._

The elven queen smiled, replacing the silver circlet on her head. She had deigned to wear it less while with Eragon and the riders, not wanting her position to distract the apprentices, who were in some respects, far more senior than she in terms of their training.

_We must return one day._ Firnen nudged her lightly.

_I know. It is hard._

_I won't argue with you now, but you know what I think._

Arya sighed. _Yes, I know what you think,__ and I agree with you. But we cannot leave._

Firnen puffed before descending rapidly towards a clearing within the forest.

Arya leapt down deftly, landing lightly on the lush grass, before turning and rubbing the green scales of her closest friend's neck. "I shall make my own way to Ellesmera from here Firnen. Do not worry for me."

The great dragon nodded, before relieving the grass below him as he took to the skies.

As the horizon blotted out the vestige of her partner, Arya turned and began to walk through the procession of trees lining the clearing. Side by side, pairs of trees dwarfing those surrounding them made a line that pointing towards Ellesmera. Each tree was planted in accordance with the death of an elven monarch, kings to the left, their queens to the right. Often the trees to her left were slightly larger than those on her right, the kings passing to the void before their mates. As she proceeded through the rows, the trees grew smaller, however their significance to Arya only increased, until she came upon the last two towering pines.

"Hello father." Arya whispered to the tree on her left, a hand brushing up against the rough bark covering the tree. The needles shed by the tree over her father's grave were soft and gentle, and provided a strong aroma that calmed her nerves. Each pine was unique, with different attributes that reflected the leader's characteristics, although all of them stood protective over the surrounding trees.

"How can I lead the elves to peace when I cannot obtain peace in myself? How did you lead as well as you are recorded as leading? What would you do if you were stuck as I am?" The questions spilled from Arya's lips before she could stop herself. The titanic tree appeared to shake itself slightly, needles tangling in her hair, as she turned to the smallest of the monarchs, the most recently deceased queen of the elves.

"Mother." She stated, bowing, before treading lightly to the trunk. Despite her efforts, a number of sharp and pointed needles pricked her arms as they fell from the wide, embracing limbs. Arya found it appropriate that her father's leaves were soft and his aroma comforting; while her mother's tree was wider, but much more difficult to be close to.

Sitting down on one of the roots protruding near the base of the tree, Arya spoke once more to herself, "Even if you were here, if fate had been kind to me, I would not ask what you think of this matter. Not out of disrespect, but because I know the answer. Do not forsake your duty to the people, the alfakyn." Arya sighed, feeling very tired. As she lay back, looking up through the interweaving branches of her mother's tree, Arya closed her eyes, darkness overcoming her.

* * *

Arya sat upright, sharp emerald eyes taking in her surroundings instantly, not that there were many features of where-ever she resided. White mist blanketed the entire area, even the floor seemed unstable, as if she were lying in the clouds. Wiping herself down subconsciously, she noted her travel ridden clothes were gone, replaced by a green silk tunic and black leggings made of the finest leather. Certainly not the worn leggings and outfit she was wearing last time she remembered.

Standing up, she reached out to Firnen with her mind, berating herself for not doing so sooner. _I must spend more time training as a rider. I rely too much on my own strength. _As her tendrils of thought expanded to encompass a wider area, she increasingly became worried as she felt no signs of life around her. Fear grew into panic as she reached for the magic she knew was within her, but walls of stone blocked her from the arcane power.

_No. Not again. _She could not and would not endure the pain she suffered in Gilead again. And yet, the area did not hold the sense of danger Gilead did, despite her loss of Firnen and magic. Before she could ponder the illusion any longer, or rationalize with herself, footsteps approached from behind.

The tall elven queen spun on her heel, falling into a crouch as her apparent captors approached. She may have lost access to the magic she relied on so frequently, but she was far from defenseless without it. As her hands came up to defend against any sudden attack, two grey figures materialized from the illusion that she was bound in. "You cannot wish to hold me here devils, once Eragon Kingkiller hears of my capture, you will lament the day your mother gave life to you"

A deep resonant male baritone laughed from the shadows.

"Is that really the way you greet your father after one hundred years, Arya Drottning?"

The slanted eyes of the elven queen widened in surprise, as the two figures took shape and colour, breaching the cloudy walls. Before her stood King Evandar and Queen Islanzadi, dressed in regal white robes; lost to the void for decades.

* * *

"Father, is that you?"

Not waiting for a response, thoughts of imprisonment and magic forgotten, Arya leapt into her father's arms, embracing him for the first time in over a century. His angular chin rested on her raven hair, strong arms holding her warmly. He leaned back, silver hair falling lightly behind him.

"So my little girl CAN show affection. I thought you may have forgotten how in all the years I've been gone." His emerald eyes glinted mischeiviously.

Arya smiled in response. "I missed you."

"I know. You don't need to say anything. I'm so proud of what you've done Arya. The queen, your mother, and I could not have asked for a greater gift than you alive and Galbatorix defeated."

Releasing Evandar, Arya looked at her mother, whose eyes were inscrutable.

Arya bowed to her predecessor. As truly as she loved her mother, there were wounds which had been left to fester, questions unanswered between them.

"Mother."

A grimace crossed the dead queen's face. "Arya, I must speak with you."

She looked around slowly, deliberately, before resting her gaze back to her mother. "You are?" She knew what would frustrate the queen the most, and was more than willing to utilize the knowledge as she saw fit. Predictably, anger flashed across Islanzadi's face. The surprise was the disapproval and disappointment that showed in her father's green eyes.

"Please Arya. My daughter, we do not have long." The elven monarch's eyes were sad, her bearing almost pleading with Arya, who relented reluctantly.

"As you decree, drottning"

Evandar turned away at this. More than anything, this stung Arya the most. Her father had always stood up for her if she argued with her mother. He was too protective of his only child, when she spoke against his mate. It was a flaw Arya had exploited tirelessly as a child.

Her mother winced at her attack. "Arya. I. Look. I'm. Arya – I'm sorry." The queen's confident nature was peeled away, as she struggled to voice her regret at her actions.

"For what reason could you ever feel the need to apologise to me mother? You always did what you thought was best, what was right?"

"My dearest and only daughter, I am sorry for everything. I am sorry for banishing you, for not being there for you, for abandoning you in Gilead, for the mistrust, the dislike, the anger between us. But… above all, I am sorry for teaching you, and for showing you that duty is of utmost importance in life."

Of all the things that Islanzadi could have said, the last surprised Arya the most. Her mouth formed a little 'o', as she tried to contemplate what her mother said. She settled on asking for more detail, although she realized now the pain her mother had endured and the guilt that racked her.

"Mother, please. Speak what you mean."

"I know how you feel about him."

Arya's cheeks flushed, her ears growing hot. She turned away, sadness tingeing her features.

"It is not to be. It never has been."

Thin hands grasped Arya's shoulders from behind, she shuddered at the forgotten familiarity of her mother's touch. Desperation crept into the dead ruler's voice as she whispered, "It is, and should be. He makes you happy Arya."

Breaking her mother's hold, she whirled on the tall lady, anger lighting up her face. "I was told it was not! That I was not to distract him!"

"Yes Arya, in the war. When our hopes and the hopes of the world rested on him." The queen shook her head, "Do not be too harsh on my decisions my dear. You did not feel about him the way you do now. Love did not flow through your veins. When the land no longer needs saving from a tyrant of impossible power, and our forces are but an ant to the enemy, you should be happy. He makes you happy."

"It would be an abomination." The argument sounded weak even to Arya, who wondered why she was arguing with her mother on this matter. She wanted to be happy with Eragon, she wanted to love him openly, to be cared for once more.

"Yes, to some, it would be an abomination. But do not Az Sweldn rak Anhuin find the riders to be an abomination? Do not be so easily influenced by other's beliefs, they will lead you astray."

Arya's face softened as she realised her mother's intentions. _She is only trying to help me, and I was pushing her away, as I always have done._

"I'm sorry." She said quietly, leaning in and embracing her. Unlike their 'reconciliation' in Ellesmera, this felt natural, and Arya felt a part of her become peaceful for the first time since her father's death. "I miss you. Both of you." She said, looking over her mother's shoulder to Evandar, who, seeing the embrace, had walked back over to the pair of dark-haired women, so alike to each other.

Stepping back, her mother said in the familiar authoritative voice, although now it was filled with compassion. "Do not mourn us Arya, but equally, do not forget us; for we will never forget our only daughter, Arya Drotnning, emissary for the elves, slayer of shades, rider of Firnen and freer of Shruikan from darkness."

"Don't leave me here. Where-ever here is!" she cried, as her mother and father began to fade into the nothingness that was the white cloud surrounding her.

"No, Arya. We will never leave you. Here is just your mind, showing you what you have denied yourself for decades. Love."

Choking back tears, Arya stood head hung, arms loose by her side. Tentative arms wrapped around her waist, and she leant comfortably into the embrace, closing her eyes and smiling. "Eragon."

When silence greeted her, she lightly moved the hands away from her, and turned around, speechless.

"Faolin?"

* * *

When an elegant eyebrow raised and a smile crept onto the elf's lips, Arya finally snapped, self control lost.

"You're dead! You died! I saw it!" She was shocked, angry and hurt. Hurt that her mind, or whoever, was taking the pain of loss and turning it against her. Tears burts from her eyes, carving silver rivers down her cheeks.

"Arya. You are crying. You never used to cry. Why now?" A soft thumb wiped the tears from her cheek, the fingers lifting her face up to look her in the eye.

Silence greeted Faolin's question, so he waited. Slowly the tears dried, the silent sobs ceasing.

"I know how much you despise this, the notion that you could be wrong. But your mother is right Arya. Do not cry for them, and do not cry for me. What we had" he gestured vaguely with his hands, "was beautiful, but you know that he makes you happier than I ever could."

Again, silence greeted his statements, so the muscular elf pressed on.

"Neither of you can live separate from each other. Do you not feel the hole in your heart, or has your mind been clouded by your duties?"

"Faolin, don't do this. Dont torment me. You know how I suffered your loss in Gilead. How I wept."

Faolin's eyes flashed. "Arya, don't you do this. Stop holding back and hurting yourself. Let go. Don't give up your future happiness in some sign of respect towards me. I would not want it, and Eragon would not want it in reverse."

Arya nodded glumly. A finger flicked her chin up once more, and his eyes caught hers with a smile.

"Thank you Arya,"

"What for?" she tilted her head to the side, curious as to what reason he would have to thank her.

"Without you, he would have failed, and the world would be cast into darkness."

"I rejected him!"

"And yet he stood by you, protected you, cared for you, mourned with you, shared his very essence with you. Does not that suggest something?" The lithe elf smiled at her as he too began to fade into the clouds, light filling her vision. Reaching a peak, the light began to fade, until she was left staring at the boughs of the pines above her.

The needles that had once pained no longer annoyed her. They were still sharp, but they were not incessant in piercing her side. A albino Raven sat on a branch a few feet above Arya, one word repeating over and over in both her mind and the air around her.

"Wyrda."

Arya smiled, before springing up and bolting towards Ellesmera, the way before her clear.

* * *

**A/N: **I thought I'd share with you a couple of the fanfics I have enjoyed over the time. I'd recommend giving them a look!

In no particular order:

* * *

"Chaos" by DomesticHouseCat

This one is an awesome read, post-inheritance fanfic. Seriously good stuff, with some gut wrenching twists.

* * *

"Voice of Reason" by Blueasice24

For something a bit different, and just mind blowingly complex, have a read of Voice of Reason, a story of a perspective you've probably never considered.

* * *

Ok, so I actually finished this chapter :O :O :O Crazy stuff really, bit of a wacky chapter. Yes, there's a reasonable (but not huge) amount of inspiration from the final harry potter book.

For those who might be interested, I was originally going to have a similar concept but with Eragon/Brom. However, looking at a map of Alagaesia, Brom's tomb is on the eastern side, not ideal when the rider's haven't returned yet... bit far away from any major plot point to be reasonable.

But as I said above, I am taking a one week enforced hiatus. In all likelihood I will do some reading of the Inheritance Cycle again (at least parts of it), which should be nice.

Also, if you review, please don't put spam. I will just delete it, and it makes me sad :(


	12. Scales

**A/N:** I'm back. Firstly, can I just say how much I needed that break. It was so nice not to have to worry/think/plan anything for this fan-fic. Not that I don't enjoy it. But too much of a good thing etc etc.

Anyways, this chapter is pretty much just filler. Its not brilliant by any means, but it has a fun tidbit which I wanted to include. I may or may not expand on it at a later stage, but we'll see.

As for the rest of the story leading up to here. On Saturday I printed off the entirety of this fanfic that I had published. I was quite surprised when my printer spat out 84 pages worth of text. I'm slowly going through the 84 pages, editing, adding, subtracting where I feel necessary. Nothing major has changed, but I've added more description. Once my review is complete, I'll resubmit those earlier chapters. If anything major changes, I'll let you know here.

RE: Yolkiin: It's ok, I'm back now. Hope the "OR ELSE..." consequence doesn't need to happen

RE: AwesomeDragonGirl: faillll. urgh, screwed that up. will fix it up in time. my apologies. hate screwing up stuff like that. good pick up

To all my other reviewers, thanks so much for your feedback/support. If there were any other constructive criticisms that I missed addressing here, sorry, I haven't forgotten you. I hope :/ To ALL MY REVIEWERS, you're amazing. period. the end.

Should probs actually show you the chapter now ;)

* * *

Brown eyes flickered open slowly. The all too familiar fabric of his tent hung above him, mocking him for the number of times he had risen from the depths of unconsciousness due to injury. Eragon went to rub his eyes of their sting, but found his arm weak, as if heavy laden by a great weight. He groaned and rolled his head to the side, letting gravity readjust his view from his cot.

At the groan, a mess of red hair spun as Ismira, his youngest and dearest rider, spun to greet her Uncle. Similarly, a tall urgal and two dwarves looked at their master and lead rider, questions beginning to flood from their lips instantly.

"What did you – happened? Ok? Trying to do?" a rush of words bombarded Eragon's pointy and overly sensitive ears, and with an effort he raised a hand to silence his enquiring companions. Sitting up slowly, a touch of energy from Saphira assisting, he looked at the ground, and responded to what he assumed their general question was.

"Yes, I am well. Tired, but alive. As to what I did? It appears I made a mistake."

_You could say that. _Saphira snorted from outside. _Why is it you always seem to put yourself in danger._

Eragon raised a mental eyebrow. _I thought it was just when I was away from you that I did dangerous and exotic things?_

_You seem to have progressed, my little one. Perhaps I shall lick off all the foolish ideas you have in your head. _Saphira nodded mentally, a smirk forming as she out maneuvered the great Alagaesian hero.

_Please no! But you slight my intelligence. The spell was well reasoned, if a bit definite._

Saphira snorted. _A bit definite? You almost killed yourself trying to kill that beast._

_I know, and I am sorry for the fear it caused you and the others. I should explain myself._

"You must be wondering what I was trying to do when I collapsed earlier…"

"two days past" Dazhgra rumbled.

Eragon raised a brow again before continuing. "two days past. For those who aren't familiar with the beast we encountered, it is called a Nidhwal. It cannot be reasoned with on a logical scale, nor can it be defeated by the twelve words of death, much like a dragon. Both are ancient beasts, and such forms of magic do not affect the dragons or their family. The Nidhwal's - the closest relatives - reside in the deepest crevices of the ocean. My logic in defeating the beast was to drain its life-source; water; from it." Eragon paused, sighing slightly.

"My mistakes, and there were too, was trying to boil off the water so quickly, and secondly, the spell I cast was too definite. I did not provide myself an escape clause. Its determination is to be admired; its hide was a dry as the hadarac, and yet it continued to pursue Ismira."

"We should be thankful then, that both you and Ismira are alive and safe" Godok commented quietly. Verdra nodded her agreement, putting a hand on Ismira's shoulder and squeezing gently.

A roar from outside made Eragon's head jerk up, palms pushing against the cot, ready to spring up at a moment's notice. "Where are the dragons? And for that matter, where are we?"

"The dragons? Outside" Dazhgra and Ilumeo noted.

"Showing off" Godok stated flatly.

His face creasing in confused amusement, Eragon pushed off the low bed, and walked slowly to the tent entrance, the flap of cloth for a door sliding away with the knock of his hand.

A cacophony of brilliant lights assaulted his face, four dragons twisting and turning in the sky, light flashing off their scales. Eragon expanded his consciousness to embrace each dragon, and felt the mental debate that raged between the dragons as to whose scales were brighter and more beautiful. Saphira was tactfully curled up behind the tent, having kept watch over the rider she was so fond of.

_Why? _Eragon asked Saphira, tilting his head up to gaze at the dragons corkscrewing above.

_When the nidhwal leapt from the water, Ilumeo noticed the way the light reflected off the beads of water. She told Mor'kan… you get the idea_

"Pride," Eragon muttered

_Some would say stubbornness. Why bother competing when a majestic beast lies beneath them? None could wish to compete with the beauty of my scales. They are stubborn for even trying._

_Maybe they think you are too old or not majestic enough to dance with them in the sky, comparing scales. Which one of them wishes to surpass you as lead dragon _Eragon jested.

Blue fire shot into the sky, blinding the other dragons from the brilliant blaze. It did not burn the dragons, but its message was clear. They stopped roaring and snapping at each other and glided down, landing as far away from Saphira as was still polite.

_None would surpass me_. _Not even Firnen._

Eragon laughed, hands rubbing his face and jaw, feeling the stubble of growth that had developed while he was void of thought. The sapphire gem brushed his cheek, and he grimaced to himself, feeling the energy stored from many years of exile.

_I should have used the energy I stored over our years alone._

_Rest little one. Do not worry over what you can no longer control. We encountered many small and no so small trials on our journey here, while I carried you. It seems the world does not wish for our return. Many hours of flight separate us from Alagaesia, and despite their actions, the dragons are tired. Let them, and yourself, rest. I will ensure Verdra prepares a catch for the evening feed._

* * *

Cleaning the dressing from his wooden plate, Eragon cleared his throat quietly, stilling all conversation, both mental and verbal, between his companions. Then, in small groups, Eragon taught his students things he did not wish to expose them to, ways of war.

The fire they sat around crackled with delight as Godok was taught the twelve words of death, Eragon enstructing the young dwarf on the best ways to overcome a magician's defence. The stout dward absorbed the news eagerly, his once angry demeanour now focused and calm for the battles which lay on the horizon.

To Ismira, who had yet to learn of her control over the ancient power of magic, Eragon gave small gems of healing, instructing Ismira to use them as Murtagh had once upon a time in a heated battle over the Varden. Ismira was to avoid the conflict where possible, except to heal the wounds of the rider's allies. Eragon warned her she would see things she wished she would forget, but the determination on the face of his cousin's daughter told him all he needed to know. She was a fighter, and would do her utmost best to save those in danger.

As their official training was complete, Verdra and Dazhgra knew of the twelve words, and of healing grievous wounds, however Eragon spoke to the pair, as well as Godok, on how to counter the superior speed and strength of the elves. Using enemies weaknesses to their advantage. On using wards efficiently, so as not to drain your strength prematurely. Lastly, Eragon spoke of defeating swordsmen of superior skill. The knowledge that elves would feature prominently in the battle, the young man knew that despite their extensive training, the riders would be outclassed by sword. So he spoke plainly and simply of a time when, by the lake of Dras-leona, an elven queen had been defeated by a young warrior determined to prove his worth. As he smiled encouragingly to each of them, Saphria spoke in his mind.

_They are ready._

_As ready as they can be against an army of murderous raging elves._

* * *

**A/N: **If there are any major issues with this chapter, please let me know. Although I will be reviewing it myself with fresh eyes in the morning. Especially the last few paragraphs, to flesh it out. Again, apologies for it being a bit of a filler.

Also, those who have been keeping track, this chapter was meant to be titled SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS. SKIP TO NEXT BREAK TO AVOID. Yeah next chapter was meant to be called sloan. that chapter is coming, I was tossing up a few different ideas, and I wanted to sneak this in as part of getting myself back up to speed

* * *

As always, please review, with criticisms, comments, suggestions, praise etc. I'll be back. And my goodness, it's nice to finally post again.

Until next time


	13. Sloan

**A/N: **Ok, it's finished (the chapter, that is). I quite enjoyed this chapter, but the next few should be even better (to write, I'm not sure how they'll be for you all).

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. It really does mean alot when you review, even if I forget to get back to you! I hope to work on the next chapter soonish, and might forge my way through it if I get plenty of reviews ;)

* * *

For the second time in recent months, Eragon's heart tore at the sight of the stoney shore that marked the Alagaesian boundary. A fierce headwind had buffeted the riders progress, nature railing against the return of the brunette and his riders.

_Saphira land please! You are tired, the young ones weak. Even if they float to the beach; they, and we must rest._ Eragon spoke gently to the partner of his soul and mind.

She snorted in response, sensing the worry and angst that quickened the lead rider's heart and shook his being.

_Eragon do not fear. You have come this far. We cannot hide from the dangers of the world at the top of a tower or base of a dungeon. Our path does not lead us to clip our wings. No - we must soar._

_Saphira, please. If what Angela said is true, I can never return. Should I fall to the ground upon my entering into Alagaesia, I will fall much further if upon your back._

_Nothing could pull me from the sky._

_You were never destined to remain abroad. It's not your flying or strength I question, but there is magic stronger even than the dragons. Fate does not like being tested. _

The sapphire dragon conceded and splashed into the shallow waters, allowing her troubled rider to wade onto the shore. A smile lit up his handsome features, as the stones crunched beneath Saphira's feet as she came to his side.

They gazed together at the land they had once called home, waiting for the newest generation of riders to return to Alagaesia. The wind still howled as it had for many days, threatening to sneak under leathery wings and force the dragons into the air and out to sea, where shadows lurked beneath the surface.

Selender snapped and snorted as Ismira's fiery hair tickled the bronze nose of the smallest dragon, the strands annoying and distracting the young dragon. The warm glow of the sunset gave life to the red hair. It almost seemed as if Selender was searing the little girl with tangled tongues of flame.

Dahzgra stood tall against the elements, using his prestigious size to break and disperse the wind, unintentionally allowing Godok and Verdra easier passage to their master. A muttered phrase from Eragon and the damp entrails of their leggings and coats dried instantly from their wading through the shallows; heat rushing through their tired bodies.

Godok opened his mouth and spoke, his words snatched away by the wind. Eragon opened his mind to the dwarven man. He was pleased when the apprentice did not allow instantaneous entry, walls preventing any casual spying or prying.

_What is it you ask Godok? _

_Eragon, this wind is as steel in its strength. Let us take shelter in the trees now that we are as one group._

The lead rider nodded, passing a mental order to the others. The dark trunks stood tall against the wind, unaffected by the ferocious display. Once within the cover of the forest, the deafening roar subsided, allowing a subtler noise to be heard. A slow creak that seemed to come from all around them. A rustle of wood scraping against wood.

_The trees little one_. Saphira warned Eragon as she saw the tall trunks bending over the dragons and their riders, blocking out the sun, angular branches reaching to claw at them.

Remembering his last encounter with a malevolent force of nature Eragon motioned for the riders to lower their swords, dragons to be still. As one, they sheathed their weapons, the dragons snapping their jaws shut.

"What is it?" - Ismira asked, before the wind answered for Eragon, an ice cold breeze piercing the air.

"Will you give me what I want in return, Dragon Rider?" - a soft and fluttering voice whispered into the ears of those around. Eragon looked up at the trees, his mind racing at the sound. He remembered the question well, his answer allowing the forging of Brisingr, his dragon's actions causing panic amongst the elves. And suddenly, he knew what was to occur before it happened.

"Whatever happens" he said calmly to those with him. "Do not panic or attack, or you doom us all." Without warning, roots as thick as Selender's body sprung up as he spoke, their rough hides grasping at the group of dragons and riders round the ankles. Slim branches wound around each other, strengthening with the binding; twisting until they encompassed each member's neck, tightening as a snake - the life of the riders slowly being extinguished. A vast and slow moving mind embraced Eragon and Saphira, the tired voice of the Menoa tree speaking once more to them, Glaedr the only other privileged to hear her words.

So, _you have returned O Changeling. I gave you the node of brightsteel that the werecat spoke of, and asked that you leave in recompense. Yet you return, with many more firebreathers and forestkillers. More Dragons. Their fires must be extinguished. The seedlings are safe from the dark king. We shall not be threatened. You will die, and the forest will be strong. Die, firebreathers and riders._

_Menoa Tree. Linnea. Cease this madness. The hatchlings have not threatened you. Why do you slay the changeling and his dragon so? This is useless slaughter! _Glaedr urged quickly and firmly towards the glacial mind of the tree. Eragon followed up quickly, his thoughts fading to black as his breath was squeezed out of him.

_Before you kill us O powerful tree, consider this. Would you kill a sparrow that spreads the seeds of the forest by consuming the berries from a bush? We had to use the brightsteel to defeat Galbatorix, and the peace that followed has allowed you to flourish as you say. Our actions have only aided your endeavors, not hindered them! _

The roots entwining the necks of the riders and dragons paused in their struggle.

_Stop this! Now, before it is too late! _Glaedr roared, acutely aware of the failing consciousness of his bearers.

At once, the pressure around each of their necks was removed, the roots slinking away with guilt. The trees around them straightened once more, the branches returning to their natural angles. The forest once more took on the visage of beauty, not anger.

_Do not linger in the land rider. You will leave._ The mind retreated from Eragon, Glaedr and Saphira.

_You have grown wise Eragon. That was well reasoned, and saved the lives of innocents._ Glaedr commended Eragon, his pride flowing between the golden eldunari and the rider as he moved towards the injured.

The four apprentices were rubbing their necks, and Eragon silently and quickly healed each of their wounds, commending them for their bravery and silence in the face of death.

"What was that?" Ismira asked as her bruises faded.

"A being whose wrath should be avoided. Do not make promises you can't keep Ismira, nor cause anger unnecessarily. Now, let us move on and make camp away from here."

* * *

As the thunder of dragons soared towards Du Weldenvarden, the wind now encouraging them on their journey, each rider was tested on their knowledge of elven culture. Dazhgra and Verdra's understanding was of the highest standard, Godok's was suitable for his level of training, while Ismira only knew the basic introductions and greetings.

_You know as well as I that you will be judged by the highest standards. _Arya's words to an innocent and naiive boy floated from long forgotten memories as Eragon rested in the saddle. The words were even more potent now that he lead a quartet of riders to the elves, whose general animosity towards the riders was clear. He frowned at how quickly the circle had been completed. He had been scorned by the elves for being a human rider during the reign of Galbatorix, and now his apprentices would be scorned for their race also.

Although the life he had been given was one he wouldn't change for the world, the routine of farming in Carvahall had been familiar and safe. Interesting in its own ways, with intricate strategies for growing the largest and most successful harvest. He had learnt few of these things, his life a whirlwind of battles, blood, training, pain, learning, Saphira, Arya, killing, protecting, running, proving himself to beings he had barely conceptualised. In many ways, it would have been easier...

_Stop these poisonous thoughts Eragon. _Saphira hissed at him. _You and I have made the most of what we have been given. Do not dwell on what could have been._

_Yes Saphira. I am sorry. I just wish for the carefree nature that I once had._

_Little one, everyone loses that nature eventually, either in an early death or ageing. Yours was stolen from you by a war that was caused by outside hands. Never forget though, that I love you and am proud of what you have accomplished. But enough of this a two-leg man has collapsed below us. The one you exiled. We should see him, but Ismira must not._

The lead rider leant over Saphira's side, trying to see past her to the ground below. Between the strokes of her wings, he could see the butcher below them, lying on the floor of the forest, clutching at his heart.

_Aye, I see him. I will send the riders onwards, Ellesmera is hard to miss, and they can circle until we arrive. _

A great urgency spurred Eragon on, Saphira diving faster as she felt the tug towards Sloan.

_I feel him fading little one. We must be quick._

Dismounting as fast as he could, Eragon raced to his former foe, holding the man up, the white haired head resting against his chest.

"So, the mighty hunter joins the rest of us mortals" Sloan smiled at Eragon, his face creasing from the pain as he reminded the lead rider of their first introduction following Saphira's discovery. The rider smiled at the gentle jibe.

"I am dying Eragon." the butcher muttered quietly. "Evil forces have struck me down with a poison not even the elven queen could heal. I do not have long for this world, but there are things you must know. Do not waste your energy stopping the inevitable, you will need it for what is coming."

A lump formed in Eragon's throat, and he nodded. The man's eyes opened wide, and a weak arm gestured towards his face.

"These eyes have seen things... powerful things. I have seen a true butcher, a butcher of men, elves and all the other races legends speak of. I killed for meat and a living. This elf slaughters the living without remorse or mercy."

"Laucki" Eragon said quietly. The small man's ear picked up slightly and he closed his eyes, resting into Eragon's arms.

"Yes, Laucki. I did not ask to see him Eragon, but I have seen, and must pass on what I know before I die."

Tears welled in Eragon's eyes. Although he had never liked the butcher, they were connected in a way he could not explain. Knowing the man's true name had forged a link between them.

"No. You can't die. You have grandchildren. A rider! Ismira is a rider." He spluttered.

"What's this? The little farmer is crying for the butcher. No Eragon, I have had my time. My daughter is married to a respectable and worthy man, my eldest grandaughter a rider to the beautiful Selender. Yes, all these things I have seen thanks to your blessing." The blue eyes snapped open again, leaving Eragon wondering what residual magic resided in them. Sloan paused, his breathing becoming shallow and shuddering as he fought the poison in his body.

"Laucki, he is going after your legacy. He could not destroy the riders, so he is destroying all that THE riders - you - have done. Carvahall is ashes, and the army marches onwards. Only elven settlements will be spared. Ilirea will be the last to fall. And when it does, the elves will rule supreme, Laucki changing the fate of the land as he sees fit. You must stop him."

Shock flitted across Eragon's face. Finally they knew something about Laucki, at least what his plan was. They could intercept the elves on their journey across Alagaesia and stop the destruction before all hope was lost. He paused midthought as his arm was grasped again with a surprising intensity, the blue gaze locked with his.

"I am sorry Eragon. I wronged you for many years, did not show you kindness, but spited you undeservingly. Please, do not remember me as a spiteful old butcher, but as the man who loved his daughter and her legacy above all else. I am proud of what my family, both immediate and extended; have done for everyone. Remember. I loved her." The voice faded on the last word, as the body fell limp in Eragon's arms, the blue eyes faded in death.

_He died a good man. _Saphira noted quietly. _He deserves a proper burial. _

Eragon nodded, standing up and using magic to move the soil until a suitable grave was dug. Placing the body gently onto the ground, he stepped back and covered the man with the discarded dirt until a small mound stood above the surface. Using a flat piece of slate from nearby, he inscribed a short eulogy, placing the rock at the head of the mound.

_Here lies Sloan Allenson_

_Cared for his family above all_

_Died a good man_

_and a loving father._

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable about the situation, Eragon bounded up Saphira's foreleg and settled into the leather saddle.

"Let's go Saphira."

As the queen of the skies rose into her domain, a far off roar of pain fell upon their ears. In the distance, Selender was racing towards them, Ismira clinging to the saddle tightly. The bronze wings surged with power, the little dragon using every ounce of her prodigious strength to carry her rider to the source of their alarm.

"Uncle! What happened? I just felt something happen. I'm sorry for coming. I felt I had to. Something bad happened, didn't it?" Ismira shouted desperately.

_Should we tell her? _Eragon asked Saphira quietly, who growled but agreed.

_It is her right. Be careful though, there are things she cannot know._

"Come Ismira. I shall explain, but let us land or my voice will tire."

Sitting by the grave, Eragon looked at the young lady next to him, who was looking at the mound of dirt with interest. She had understood whose grave it was once she had seen the stony plaque, and had knelt before her grandfather and spoken some quiet words to the man she never knew.

Compassion filled Eragon's heart for the eleven year old next to him. She had been taken from her loving family even younger than he had. Ismira had been attacked by elves, whisked away before being called back. A nidhwal had been centimetres away from eating her, and a tree had almost killed her. Ismira had barely complained of the actions that she had endure, understanding its necessity. She was so young to be exposed to the horrors that riders had to see, and yet she stood tall against it all, admirably stoic. And now she had felt the pain of losing a family member, even one she did not know had only just fallen to the void.

"Did your mother or Roran ever tell you about him Ismira?" Eragon asked gently, touching the girls' arm.

The fiery hair hid the teary face as she shook her head and mumbled, "Not much. Father gets cross when we mention grandpa, and Mum* goes quiet" the soft voice hiccuped.

Eragon hugged his dearest apprentice close to him, stroking her hair and whispering softly to her. "Would you like to hear about him? I knew him for quite a while." The head rider felt a nod against his chest, and he began to speak softly of a man devoted to his family, stricken by the grief of losing his wife. Of raising a daughter on his own. Eragon spoke of Sloan's cleanliness and attention to detail, of his pride, and of his fiery temper.

"I wonder if that's why I have fiery hair" Ismira joked, smiling up through tears at Eragon, who laughed at his niece, before continuing to educate her on the butcher of Carvahall and all the things he did to protect family.

Once the tears had dried, and Ismira had payed her respects once more, Selender padded to the grave, bending her snout and touching a nose to the soil. Eragon's eyes widened and he almost expected the ground to turn to diamond, as it had once before for Saphira. However magic did not flow from Selender, however emotions of respect and thanks were projected quietly from the bronze dragon, recognising the grandparent of her rider: a member of the newest generation of the land's greatest protectors.

As the sun set in the west, a bright blue flash lit up the horizon for the briefest second. Only Eragon and Ismira noticed it, as they landed with their companions in Ellesmera. The latter wondered at its significance, while Eragon smiled, as he stepped down from Saphira's back and led his riders before the queen of the elves.

* * *

**A/N: **I thought, given that most of the stronghammer family and some of Carvahall would be returning to Ellesmera shortly, it was time for Sloan to say goodbye. It was that, or have a long and awkward reconcililation between Eragon and everyone else who thought Sloan was dead.

Anyways, what did you think?

*Mum is the Australian spelling for mom. [you Americans spell things weird ;) ]

If it wasn't obvious, I'm going with the idea that the Menoa tree wanted Eragon to leave in exchange for the brightsteel (leave Alagaesia). Some of you may disagree with this, but given that the conclusive answer has never been stated by CP, I'm going to go with this.

The second most obvious complaint/question is why can the Menoa tree attack/reach Eragon when he's practically at the border of the nation. It will be resolved, promise.

Oh, and I can now provide the title for the next chapter. Until now, you've known it to be R_.

Chapter 14 will be titled: Rhunon.  
OOOOOOOOH! Speculation. What's the ancient (key word there) elf got to say for herself?

But yeah, please review. :)


	14. Rhunon

**A/N:** woah woah woah, I'm back again? It seems that the chapter is complete :O Took a fair amount of effort, dont expect this sort of length regularly. Its interesting to note and look back at what my original plans for this story were. Ive tossed up and tossed out many ideas and concepts in the space of writing these chapters. Btw, I really need to start uploading from my laptop, this iPad business really is much harder.

Thanks to all my reviewers, I think I'm mostly up to date with again to everyone who has reviewed. If you have trouble reviewing, just PM me your thoughts.  
To Namtab, well done sir for the Dark Knight Rises reference. And also to anyone who's been affected directly or indirectly by the atrocities that occurred in the US cinema, my heart goes out to you all!

Two things to note, I have not signified where the previews start and end, it's one concise chapter now. Also, if anyone has an issue with this fiction being rated Teen instead of Mature, please let me know. However enough of this jabbering, on with the chapter.

* * *

Walking between the elven lords towards the alfakyn queen, Eragon smiled quietly at the familiarity of the scene. Like her mother before her, Arya Drottning held herself more regally than any human monarch could wish to achieve. Her beauty, when seen in full light of an elven court; would seem imperious and imposing to his apprentices and their dragons. Although they had met the queen at their home in a far more casual manner, this was the elven realm. Beings were different here, magic permeated the air around them.

To Eragon, the city still held the sense that it had not changed in millennia; that if the riders were to return in hundreds or even thousands of years, all would be the same. Perhaps a different monarch would be present in time, but the crimson tunic, gold girdle and velvet cloak were all identical to the way Eragon first remembered them, before eldunari, before Glaedr and Oromis, and before his heart was broken.

Blagden still shuffled atop the carved scepter as he had once before; his feet dancing in time with a chant that had begun when the riders had passed into Ellesmera. Unlike his first introduction to elven royalty, Eragon would not be the one to bow and initiate the ancient custom. Lead riders formally bowed to no other power than that of their dragon.

_And you would do well to remember that, else I find that blue stick you poke two-legs with to be an excellent toothpick._

Looking towards his youngest apprentice, Eragon nodded slightly, encouraging her to open proceedings. There were no long lost princesses to break the silence this time.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin." Ismira said as confidently as she could, twisting her hand over heart awkwardly.

"Atra du evarinya ono varda" Arya replied smoothly, the tips of her mouth tilting up slightly.

"Un atra morranr lifa unin hjarta onr" Ismira finished with a subtle sigh of relief, looking at Eragon questioningly; wanting to confirm she had spoken well. He nodded and grinned at her: her face lit up.

Arya smiled fully and spoke to the girl. "It seems your master has taught you well, little one."

The process was repeated three more times with three other riders showing respect to the elven queen, powerful successor in a long line of monarchs.  
The final visitor to be greeted, Eragon was silent. As Arya looked at him, he tilted his head almost imperceptibly, eyes twinkling at the queen, whose eyebrows lifted equally.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin, Eragon Shadeslayer." Arya, fluently spoke twisting hand over heart.

"Atra du evarinya ono varda" he paused "Shadeslayer Drottning"

"Un atra morranr lifa unin hjarta onr" ... _Milord_, Arya's voice washed over his mind, her voice uncharacteristically playful.

_Will I ever live that down?_

Arya blinked at Saphira, before they both replied _No_!

Eragon grimaced slightly. He was not entirely comfortable returning to Ellesmera. The knowledge that he would have to leave once Laucki was defeated tore at him. Arya would remain queen, and they would remain separated.

* * *

Once all formal introductions were aside, Arya led the commune to a clearing, lit by lanterns hanging from trees, the glow of the sun extinguished to the horizon. As the riders entered the clearing, elves began to materialize from the shadows.

Eragon felt his apprentices tensing around him, before relaxing as the being revealed themselves to be unarmed. He was thankful for their attentiveness, it would keep them alive in the coming weeks where friend and foe were not easily distinguishable. To their credit, the elves who greeted the riders did not shun, nor appear disappointed by the race of the riders, as they once had shunned Eragon for being a human. The dragons were unanimously praised and worshipped, pleasing the majestic beasts greatly. They hummed as one at their admirers, stopping only when barrels of Faelnirv were brought before them.

_Be careful Saphira._ Eragon said dryly, knowing his words would have little impact on his dragon and her company. _It would not look good if the dragons squashed the elves in their drunken stupor._

The great sapphire head turned in his direction, blew smoke, and promptly returned to her previous occupation. Eragon snorted, and excused himself from the latest elven lord trying to seek his attention and support.

Verdra and Godok were speaking with an older elf, whose white hair reached down his back to his slim waist. The elf was taking notes as the dwarves bounced off each other, speaking of their race and observations about the differences between elven and dwarven culture. They glanced up when Eragon walked passed, but he merely nodded to them, encouraging them to continue as he made his way through the elven crowd; thoughts lost to himself.

In some respects he was glad to be back in Ellesmera, it had been a place of learning, training and change for him through the war. However a small part of his mind picked away at him, knowing this simulated peace would not last: the rider's would not stay. _War is coming_, he thought to himself. _With all its glory and horror._

Dazhgra and Ismira were laughing at each other near a table laden with berries and other delicacies. Eragon watched as Arya strode over to the pair with a tall male elf, and introduced the urgal to him, who began speaking in earnest about historical battles and fights Dazhgra may have been in. Eragon turned away when he heard his name mentioned. He did not need reminding of the atrocities he had committed in war.

"It is good to see you well, Eragon Shadeslayer"

Eragon turned apprehensively to the next name he would be expected to remember. Surprise colored his features when Dathedr continued to walk up to him, a genuine smile lighting up the lord's eyes.  
Eragon placed a hand over his heart and gave a subtle bow. He knew that the quiet man had played an imperative role in the conflicts of the past, and Eragon held only respect for the advisor to the queen.

"Indeed I am well, Dathedr-vodhr. It is good to be back in your beautiful city... even for those who don't remember their first visit." Eragon said, as Ismira and Arya approached, the queen gently holding the young girls hand.

"And who might this little one be?" Dathedr asked warmly, crouching down in front of the redhead.

Smiling back, Ismira stood up straight and firmly declared, "My name is Ismira Stronghammer and I am not little! I am eleven years old. Who are you?"  
Dathedr laughed slightly, and hung his head in mock shame, his grin broadening. Many elves would have taken offense at Ismira's outburst, but Dathedr took it all in his stride. It was clear why the advisor was so successful in his role.

"Ismira, this is Lord Dathedr, and he is one of my closest friends and advisors. Unfortunately he had other duties to attend to earlier, and wasn't able to welcome you with the other lords" Arya said gently, introducing the youngest rider to her most trusted advisor.

The young girl looked from Arya to Eragon.  
"As good a friend as Uncle?"  
Ismira giggled quietly and looked again at Arya and Eragon, continuing before Dathedr could respond."They make a good couple don't they?" she asked the lord, who blushed at the look on the two most powerful leaders in the land; embarrassed by a child.

"It is not our place to comment Ismira. I am sure they have many issues to discuss" Dathedr stood up, dwarfing Ismira and offering her a hand, leading her towards a group of elven women, who immediately fawned over the daughter of Roran Stronghammer.

To Eragon's annoyance, his time with Arya alone was cut short by Lord Fiolr. The elf was garbed garishly, exuberant shades of fluorescent green making him shine like a beacon. Tamerlien hung from his belt, as if a statement about his heritage, and that he considered himself equal to the riders: the only other group who retained their weapons.

"I fear I must apologise for our race's actions of late Lord Eragon; forcing your return. Many did not expect to see you again"

_Apologising because I had to return, or sorry_ _that I have returned?_ Eragon wondered to himself.

"Think little of it, it was time for my return. I wished to speak with the leaders of the races for many years: now that our new home is finished, it was an opportune time."

_Again you surprise me with your wisdom Shadeslayer. Long ago, I would have had to counsel you on an appropriate response. Now, you speak with confidence and eloquence. It is quite..._ Arya trailed off in Eragon's mind and reverted to the spoken tongue as she realized Lord Fiolr was looking between them expectantly.

"Rhunon wishes me to pass on an invitation to see her tomorrow when you are free." Arya spoke quickly and without emotion, a quiver in her face the only betraying sign that she was frustrated at the interruption.

Eragon forced a smile at Lord Fiolr before spreading his arms and shrugging. "I am available now."

Arya smiled gently. "So eager, perhaps the farmer I once knew remains."  
Laughing, Eragon replied "Perhaps. However life moves on like the sands of time. Where shall the riders stay while in Ellsemera? My previous accomodation is not sufficiently large enough for Saphira, and would fit no more than one rider besides."

"Aye, you will stay at the Crags of Tel'nair where Oromis resided. I no longer use the hut, royal duties did not allow for distance, as small as it was, to separate the queen and her throne." Arya explained calmly.

Eragon nodded to Fiolr, bowed to Arya, and excused himself from the celebrations. As Saphira fumbled her way towards him, Eragon touched each of the minds of his apprentices and their dragons, warning them once more.  
_Elves are wonderful and powerful beings, however they can, at times, be mad. Glorious, but mad all the same. Do not travel alone, and ensure you train in the morning. It would not do well to be seen as lax in front of the proudest of the land dwellers._

* * *

Landing roughly in the clearing that was home to his master before him, Eragon barely took in the surroundings before collapsing into the comfortable bed.  
He woke as the veil of night was torn by the golden glimmer of morning light. The lead rider had long ago learnt to make the most of the days under the blue skies, exercising his mind and body before the day truly began. Stepping around Saphira, not wishing to wake her, the brown haired man donned a light blue top and padded bare-footed to the clearing beside Oromis's hut.

Breathing deeply and slowly, Eragon brought his hands from his side to above his head, beginning the first stage of the rimgar. As he flowed from pose to pose and his muscles loosened, his mind cleared, forgetting the concerns that he harbored about the upcoming weeks. The leaders of each race had agreed to meet in Ellesmera once Eragon arrived, a council of war to meet and discuss the matters at hand.

Twisting his body into the first pose of the fourth and final stage of the dance of snake and crane, Eragon felt his muscles begin to quiver at the strain. He had completed the entire rimgar only once before, and only after plenty of rest and preparation, and therefore had no intention of repeating the deed after their lengthy travels. Straightening to his full height, Eragon sat down appreciatively on a wooden bench nearby, already aware of his newly arrived visitor.

"I will forgo the traditional elven custom of introduction and wish you a good morning if you show yourself" he spoke into the forest around, raising his voice slightly. A quick rustle near the path leading to the clearing ensued before a young male elf of breathtaking elegance appeared. The man was clearly flustered at being found, which made Eragon raise his eyebrows, and encourage the man forward.

"What is your name elf?"

"Arya Drottning wished for me to wake you Eragon-vodhr. She asks that you come to the sparring grounds."

"That is an interesting name." Eragon frowned. "Bit long winded."

Straightening with a jerk, the elf snapped to attention, before bowing slightly.  
"Atra esterni -" he began.  
Eragon raised a hand, interupting him.

"Formalities are for the courts. Please, have a seat and tell me your name." Eragon told him with a grin. He disliked the formalities of the elves, it did not leave room for mistakes, which were a natural way to learn and grow. The young elf nodded, his mouth slightly agape, moving to sit on the seat next to Eragon. His golden hair draped behind his head till just above his shoulders, and his slim frame moved with an unnatural elegance, even amongst the elves. Something about him seemed different, yet altogether familiar. However try as he might Eragon could not decipher why.

"William. Will" the young man said quietly.

"Is your name?" Eragon laughed at the expression on Will's face, who clearly hadn't realised to complete the sentence. "I'm sure you know who I am, so there's no need for that introduction."

"It's an honour to meet you sir." Will said with a smile, his left hand brushing away hair from his ears as he stuck his right arm out in the traditional human greeting. As he shook the young man's firm grasp, Eragon marvelled at how it had taken Will's rounded ears for him to realise why he looked familiar.

"You're..." Eragon began, his eyes flicking to the boys ears, nodding at the handshake as he noted the stronger jawline and the hints at a recent shave.

"A hybrid. A half-breed. A mix. A mortal. Take your pick." Will did not spit out the words, but his anger at the terms clearly pained him. Eragon shook his head, grasping their right hands with his left.

"No. You are like me. We cannot help who we are, or who we were born to Will. Be mindful of your heritage, and do not care for what others have to say. There are two sides to every gold piece." Something about the boy made Eragon feel comfortable, and he felt a yearning to help he who was clearly pained.

Will looked curiously at Eragon, unsure of how to respond. "It is rare for me to be treated with kindness and compassion. Arya Drottning and Rhunon-elda had been the only other exceptions to the rule that people must be exceptionally cautious around me. I feel like I'm about to burst into flames and burn everyone around. Thank you for not repeating this attitude."

"Will you tell me about yourself... Will?" Eragon said, realising his mistake as he said it. The young man just smiled.

"Well, I was raised by my mother, one of the alfakyn, after my father was killed by the beasts of the wild when I was six. The cries of my mother and I mixed with the cries of Arya Drottning as she was tortured in Gil'ead, and our pain was largely forgotten amongst the pain of Islanzadi. My father whose name I carry: he was a human, and as such; I was taught both in human and elven cultures. I inherited speed, strength and physical appearance from my mother, but my mind... and mortality, is one similar to a human being, my father. As such, none of the elven warriors thought to train me with sword or bow, I was mortal and expendable, so not worth their time. Also, I am not gifted with magic like the fair folk."

Eragon looked at the ground, trying to understand what the young boy had been through. Eragon had always been thankful for his transformation, without it Galbatorix would still sit in the throne at Urubaen, now Ilirea.

"Living your whole life, knowing you could never fit in - with humans or elves - must be hard. Especially with the loss of your father" Eragon said quietly, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, thoughts racing and ideas forming as he sought to help the relative stranger before him.

"Aye, and it was hard. Until recently, my mother and I lived in Kirtan, a small town south of here. Although I wanted nothing more than to be accepted, I had to endure the taunts of my peers and the leaders in Kirtan. They taunted my father as being weak, unable to hide or slay whatever creature mutilated him as he came home. I had to endure the knowledge that I would pass into the void before even the eldest of the elves. I could experience joy in companionship, for which elf wants to be burdened with the loss of a friend after fifty or seventy years."

Silence filled the clearing as Eragon pondered what life would have been like for him if he had stayed in Carvahall. Although he was not shunned or rejected in the town, he was hardly a popular boy. Due to his expeditions into the spine, he was treated with caution. People had occasionally teased him about his lack of parentage, but nothing extreme or entirely prejudice like Will had endured.

"And of yourself Shadeslayer? If it is not rude of me to ask, how did you come to be here, hero to the peoples of Alagaesia?"

Eragon smiled lightly and began to tell of his own hardships, from the challenges of a farm, hunting in the spine, and all the adventures, excitements but also the trials he had lived through over twenty years.

"When Rhunon began to move my arms and legs, with her mind..." Eragon shuddered, remembering the restraint it had taken to not reassert the control of his limbs he was used to.

"You might find it feels much worse if she brands you for being late to your appointment." An imperial voice floated through the clearing, as Arya and a small group of elven lords approached, Fiolr among them.

"William. Where have you been? I asked you to pass on the message to Lord Eragon for me and then return to Ellesmera immediately, not distract the rider with your antics." Fiolr spoke crossly. Eragon frowned, his eyebrows coming together as Arya's shot up at the assertion made by the owner of Tamerlein.

Standing up to his full height, Eragon stepped forward and slightly to the side, so that Will was behind him, but could still see the proceedings.  
"I must apologise Lord Fiolr. William did pass on your message immediately, however I was curious as to the boys past, and asked him to stay. You must understand it would have been rude of him to reject the offer of the lead rider. In fact, I've asked him to return every day so we may talk, and spar if the occasion arises." Eragon turned back to Will and winked. No such offer had been given, but Eragon wished to spend more time with the young male. Looking once more to the proud elf, Eragon continued.

"No, if there is to be punishment upon any being here, it should be I, for not considering Rhunon's request sooner. Unfortunately, it slipped from my mind in the revelation of this enlightening young man."

Fiolr gaped, so Arya stepped forward to move the conversation onwards.  
"No Shadeslayer, your punishment must be more severe. I shall let Rhunon-elda decide your fate at the sparring grounds."

_Well spoken Eragon. Although you may have angered lord Fiolr, I suspect you have gained William's trust_. Arya murmured, joining minds with him. Before she could sense his pain at their inevitable separation, he walled off the depths of his heart, not wanting to push her further away with his sorrow.

_Where is Saphira?_ Arya asked quietly

_She left to go hunting with the dragons while I was talking with Will. She will return as she sees fit. He is a remarkable young man for ten and six years of age._  
_Aye, I am sorry to have introduced him to Fiolr, who abuses his power over the boy. I shall speak with Dathedr and arrange for Will to assist him._ The queen blushed mentally, _he reminds me of another sixteen year old who endured many hardships and rose above them._

_That sounds like a discussion for another time._

Continuing in his native tongue, Eragon asked the group, "Shall we depart to the sparring grounds?"

"Indeed, although you will be sparring with Rhunon-elda, not I or any other elf."  
As the queen turned back towards Ellesmera, Eragon marvelled at how similar she was to Islanzadi. Although the effect was ruined by their mental link, the air of command and control rested around the leader of the alfakyn. She carried herself aloof of the other lords and ladies of the elven court, a subtle difference that was all the more prominent because of its subtlety. And yet, Eragon thought Arya was a vastly different leader to Islanzadi. The Arya he knew, and had seen at times in her role as queen, was a compassionate, welcoming and warm lady, the opposite of her predecessor.

_Stop staring!_ A mental jab ran through Eragon's thoughts, scattering them like dust in the wind.

Apologising quickly, embarrassed at his gaffe, Eragon turned his focus to the route they were taking to the sparring grounds, listening properly to the questions he was probed with by the elven lords; Will had gone silent in their company. A sharp flick of his ear told Eragon that Arya was annoyed at him. Strangely the pain that he felt from her magical flick came from the recesses of his heart, far from his ear lobes.

* * *

Stepping onto the sand covered ground that was dedicated for the sparring and training of the elves, Eragon smiled warmly at the woman facing him.

"So. You returned." the wizened elf rasped.

Eragon nodded in response, unsurprised at the brusque nature of his opponent. He noted the extra lines that spoke of the centuries the blacksmith had spent in Alagaesia, forging the strongest weapons known to the world and gave a slight bow.

"Why am I speaking this gutteral language once more? So uncivilised."

Eragon smiled gently. "I believe it was you who began introductions." he spoke in the ancient language, which brought a grimace to the hardened face opposite him. Without waiting to be asked, Eragon unsheathed Brisingr and handed the smith the sword they had created.

Raising an eyebrow, Rhunon cocked her head at him. "Did Drottningu tell you we were to spar."

Eragon pursed his lips. "In a manner, yes. Drottningu?"

"I have seen many of the alfakyn grow up in these forests Shadeslayer; very few have been as a friend to me as Arya is." the smith replied, her face softening at the decades past. She blinked and looked at the sword in her hand, running a blackened finger along the edge, which shimmered and shined at the touch of its creator. "A beautiful sword, Brisingr. One of the finest ever created, equalled only by Ebrithil." she muttered, running a blackened hand over the glyph that had saved Eragon's life numerous times.

"You have cared well for your sword Shadeslayer." The ancient elf held the sword in front of her and spoke a word which resonated throughout the grounds. "Brisingr."

As it had when it was forged, a shimmer ran up the spine of the blade to the point. "Curious. Most curious."

Eragon raised an eyebrow at the elf in question. He knew the smith had theories as to the source of flames that lit Brisingr, but she would only share her thoughts when she felt the need.

"It is not the sword that is curious, Shadeslayer. My curiosity is to why you would relinquish your weapon with the knowledge that I would be sparring with you this day."

With a yelp Eragon jumped back, only his elven speed saving his neck from being cleaved from the rest of his body.

_Barzul she's fast. _  
_And you expected anything else? She's testing you, although for what purpose I do not know._ Arya's voice floated into his mind as he leapt over the whistling blade.

Stepping back, Eragon paused, locking eyes with the blacksmith. Smiling grimly, Eragon uttered one word. Brisingr lit up like a torch, flames encompassing the blade, the morning light wavering from the heat. Rhunon neither looked shocked nor pained.

"I am a blacksmith Shadeslayer. I am accustomed to the heat of flames, do not squander your energy with such endeavours."

Eragon growled but released the stream of magic as Rhunon stepped forward, Brisingr whistling in intricate patterns. His brown eyes followed his blade carefully, waiting for the opportunity to strike as Rhunon attacked him incessantly. As the sapphire sword flew to his head, he rolled underneath it, kicking Rhunon's feet from under her. He yelped in shock as she reversed her grip on Brisingr and brought the sword point down onto his calf as she fell, the blocked edge sparing him an otherwise crippling wound.

With uncanny speed, the ageing elf was back on her feet, and the sparring resumed. Eragon was a blur as he moved around the smith, occasionally landing a hit on her, even as she strove to strike him. Both elf and rider gained many bruises as they danced around each other for what seemed like hours. Despite the blows he had landed on Rhunon, Eragon could feel himself tiring. He had to dodge the sword and fight back without exposing himself unduly. It was a task that required all his speed and ingenuity to match the ancient elf.

In the end though, the smith would not be denied, and left Eragon on his knees, his own sword resting against his throat, which throbbed from his racing heart and lungs. He was satisfied to see Rhunon sweating profusely, streams running down her bulging arms, the slightest shake in Brisingr belying her exhaustion.

Silence dominated the crowd that stood on the edges of the sparring grounds, none sure how to react at the result. Few had seen the legendary smith in person, and fewer still were alive to remember the last time she had wielded a sword for battle. Eragon Kingkiller was a well known entity, but the speed with which he fought had been a blur even to elven eyes. That he had lasted so long unarmed spoke volumes to the onlookers familiar with arms. Arya's eyes sparkled with pride and awe at the power the lead rider wielded, nodding in respect to him and bowing slightly at the victor. The dwarves and Ismira looked confused at what had happened, their eyes unable to maintain focus, such was the speed with which the combatants had moved until they had stopped. Dazhgra's neck was exposed as the urgal tilted his head in respect to the two warriors, a gutteral chuckled escaping his throat. William was gaping at the display he had been witness to. Fiolr's brow was creased in an anger Eragon couldn't identify.

_Once again you find trouble while I am gone Eragon,_ Saphira's voice floated across the clearing as she alighted in the trees edging the clearing, Firnen beside her. Eragon rolled his eyes at his dragon and looked at Rhunon, who removed Brisingr from his neck and handed his weapon back cautiously, as if unsure of whom she was equipping with such power.

"Well met Shadeslayer" the elf muttered quietly in the ancient language, with a slight nod.

Eragon bowed shallowly. "I was no match for you Rhunon-elda" the smith nodded in response, her face creasing as she grimaced from a particular bruise.

"Aye, but you fight as ten-elves even without your blade. I can see now how the dark king fell to your sword, you are powerful indeed." Glancing at the elven crowd now closing in, she frowned. "Let us continue this conversation elsewhere, away from prying ears and eyes."

Eragon nodded with a grin, and as one they turned and walked briskly to the nearest cover of trees, limping occasionally from the bruises each had sustained from the other. Saphira landed in the space between the two escapees and snarled at the approaching crowd, giving clear indication of her intentions should they attempt to follow her rider and his companion.

As silence enveloped his surroundings, Saphira's thoughts penetrated his being. _They have stopped following little one, although it took Arya to walk away before the rest stopped persisting. I shall join you shortly._

Eragon sent the gratification and love he had to Saphira with a smile, and she purred at the sensation as he turned and followed the smith towards her home between a ring of pines.  
Following Rhunon up the elaborate stairs he had bounded down to retrieve his completed sword, Eragon noted how carefully the elf before him moved, her actions slow and tired. However he said nothing as they sat at a small table, Rhunon silently chewing on berries she had taken from a wooden bowl before her.

"I can see why you appreciate your privacy," Eragon said, smiling at the peace the silence provided as he relaxed into the chair.

Rhunon's gaze flicked to his, her eyebrows contracting briefly. "It certainly prevents useless statements and conversations." Eragon looked down, chastised by her response.

"You have changed" the elf said, her eyes catching his, as if searching his very being.

"I have heard that a lot of late. I am yet to decipher whether it is meant with malice or joy."

"Thought I cannot speak for the other nameless beings who expressed their opinions to you, your change appears to be subtle, like a tree growing from sapling to it's majestic height. It is always a tree, still requires sun water and air to flourish, yet once fully grown, it provides shelter and food for the forest around. It is indeed a good thing, the changes I see" she said, rapping the table with her fist. "Your conviction to leave this land in the hands of man and other races showed how unlike him you were; that you would not lead us back into the darkness that you led us from."

Eragon nodded, pleased at her words. A persistent fear that he would become like the tyrant he overthrew often worried him in the depths of night, when Saphira was in the deepest slumbers and he was alone in his thoughts.

"Your face and language may have grown unreadable Shadeslayer, but I have lived amongst the unreadable for millennia. You should not concern yourself unduly with the grandeurs of tyranny. Rather you should wish to know why I would seek you out and ask a meeting, let alone spar with you." she nodded to herself as if confirming her thoughts, and continued before Eragon could reply.  
"The darkness that now consumes the world in your absence, Laucki: It is not the first time he has cast peace into the shadows and fear into the hearts of many."

"And yet almost all of the... memories of ancient times never revealed him?" Eragon asked, almost letting slip the secret of the dragons.

"Do not fear the secret that is the eldunari Eragon, I know of them and many more secrets that even the eldest of the dragons do not know. I have lived for many years, more than I care to remember. None of the eldunari spared in the fall had knowledge of Laucki's actions."

Eragon paused as he rolled a berry between his fingers, pondering whether to ask the question on his mind. Saphira took the initiative and asked for the pair.

_Rhunon-elda, my rider and I are curious, how old are you?_

"Do not presume to ask that question ever again Brightscales. To my regret, it must be told for you to understand the evil you face. For centuries, the elves of Alalea knew of Alagaesia. However this land was too far for any light hearted trip, years of sailing preventing any but the greatest elven explorers from venturing to this land. And then a great calamity was wrought unto the nations of Alalea. I do not know the details, but a desperate plan to leave the green fields and forests was devised. For a year, the elves sung to the forests night and day, growing a fleet of ships to sail across the seas, and carry the elves to a new land and new home. I was but four years old when ours, the last ship, was cast from the docks to begin the long journey to Alagaesia."

Eragon gaped, his thoughts racing as if in quicksand. The more he thought about it, the more he was overwhelmed by the fact. _Rhunon is almost three thousand years old!_ The rider held his head as his thoughts swam, while Rhunon looked on.

"Tell that to a soul other than Ar - a being with whom you choose to mate, and I will confiscate your sword and break it with my bare hands," Eragon noticed the slight stumble and frowned. He did not need reminding, however accidental, of his inevitable departure once more. However he nodded reverently to the unimaginably ancient elf.

"It should be noted that my eldest brother." she paused, eyebrows raised as Eragon opened his mouth to ask the question that sprung into his mind at her revelation. He shut it again once he saw her expression.

"Do not waste my time Shadeslayer. I shall reveal all that is necessary to your cause, and no more. My eldest brother was also on that ship, a few years older than I, and took great joy when our youngest brother was born the year we landed in Alagaesia." the elf paused to place a bulbous grape in her mouth, savoring the taste in silence, closing her eyes and reliving the memories of her past. Eragon sat equally silent, pondering all that he had heard, trying to piece together the puzzle that lay before him.

"When the elves arrived on the western shores, ours was the last to unload, years behind the others thanks to a storm which continuously delayed our progress. However once our feet at last felt solid ground, there was much rejoicing amongst myself and my brothers. A ship is no place for children." The lines of her face creased, and she visibly saddened, her frame rocking gently as if she stood on the bow of the ships once more.  
"Years later, the arrogance of the elves began their undoing. As you should know, a young elf hunted down and slaughtered a dragon hatchling. The response from the wild dragons was immediate and relentless. And so began Du Fyrn Skulblaka, with the death of my youngest brother, his charred skull the only remains that the dragons did not devour in vengeful anger." Rhunon was still once again, surreptitiously dabbing her eyes as she refilled a cup of water from the canteen on the table.

_Should I say anything?_ Eragon asked Saphira. He was stunned. In a grim and morbid way, he owed the elven smith his legacy as much as his sword. Yet he could not fathom what words would console the elf, so he was silent as Saphira moaned quietly outside.

"Do not mourn Bjartskular. Fate would have found another avenue for war and the formation of the riders, regardless of my younger brothers actions. For over five years the war raged. It was not a thought of, carefully planned war. The elves merely clashed against the dragons as often and as viciously as they could; killing as many of the other side as they could. In revenge for the youngest of ours death, my brother and I worked tirelessly for the downfall of the dragons as we each approached half a century of age. I idolized my brother and his lust for revenge. I and many others supported him in creating the deadliest of weapons. We were merely pawns though, as my brother was more powerful in his anger than any before him. He forged the Dauthdarts, and devised the spells that we wove to pierce the hides of dragons. I am ashamed to say that I danced in the rain that was the blood of dragons when the Dauthdarts were unleashed upon the battlefield."

Saphira hissed menacingly, a growl replacing the moan of her throat.

"It is not with pleasure, but revulsion that I recall my actions those years. I was foolish, still young and naiive, with little understanding of anything but revenge. In the final year of the war, my brother locked himself away, plotting devilish spells and strategies to further the downfall of the dragons, the aftermath of one such plot is known as the stone of broken eggs. He was vicious and relentless in his will to dominate all life."

"By now, many were beginning to question the constant bloodshed between the dragons and elves, myself included. Thus when it was revealed that your namesake had raised a dragon and befriended it, some of our race were relieved. Not mine eldest brother. Not Laucki."

Yet again, Eragon gaped. The connections between Rhunon and the approaching darkness were rooted into the history of the land, and yet none knew of it.  
"How is it none of this has been recorded?" Eragon asked, incredulity creeping into his voice.

"The details and names were removed for the protection of the families involved. However be silent, for why it was removed from history is unimportant now, and this tale is yet to conclude. When Laucki heard that Eragon had bonded with the dragon Bid'Daum, he was enraged. In the nine years during which the spells of binding were conceptualized for the riders, Laucki begged the elven court to allow him to finish the bloodshed and return the elves to supreme power. It was clear that madness had entered his heart following his youngest siblings death. Even the words of my elderly mother and father could not calm Laucki, and in a fit of rage, he bound them to his will using a magic I know not of and had them slaughter each other. I found them as he spoke the words that sealed their fate, watched them struggle against their own bodies, the light of madness glowing through my brother's soul. He begged me to leave with him, as if our parents death had meant nothing. He spoke of cracking the code, that he had found a way to end the war. I pleaded with him to stop, to realise the war was finished, that the riders would be the protectors of the land. He laughed at me, claiming Eragon was weak. Then he fled, and I could do nothing."

"Days later, the most beautiful spell was unleashed unto the land, gifting all elves with magic and immortality. I still remember the power flowing into me, the feeling of youth once again, magic seeping into my soul. Laucki already had magic in his veins, but still received the immortal life. Eragon and Bid'Daum left decades later to hunt down Laucki and destroy him and the evil he burdened the world with. Neither they nor Laucki have been heard of since. That, young Shadeslayer, is my story. It should be apparent to you as to why I dedicated my life to the support of the riders."

_We are sorry for your pain Rhunon-elda._ It cannot have been easy to relive those horrors. Saphira spoke, to which Eragon repeated vocally in the ancient language. Rhunon looked at him intensely, grey eyes rimmed with the shadows of fatigue.

"Shadeslayer. You must kill him. You must know this: your magic will have no effect on him. Laucki was the singularly most gifted elf in millennia, the rider's pact only increasing his strength. He was, and do not ask how for I do not know, he was able to remove himself from the ancient language which binds all things. He can wield magic, but you can no more put him to sleep with slytha than you can reverse death, the attempt will only ensure you are lost to the void. Many dragons discovered this during the years of turmoil."

"And if he attacks with magic?" Eragon asked, a growing sense of apprehension forming in his heart. This enemy was far beyond the strength of Galbatorix or any enemy Eragon had considered.

"You can still wield magic in his presence, just not attack him directly. Lighting a fire next to Laucki will burn him as much as you or I, but if you try to set him alight, you will surely die."

"And of the elven army that march with him?"

Rhunon frowned in concentration, her words slow and deliberate. "You would be wise to take caution when attacking the elves Shurtugal. Many elves over the years would be supporters of Laucki, and his desire for an elven tyranny, and disappearances of such beings has not been uncommon. But most of his army I sense are bound to his madness, as my family once was. Do not kill unnecessarily, enough bloodshed has been on Laucki's actions."

Eragon grimaced at the reality of the task in front of him. Even with the riders at full strength, he would not wish this task upon them. And yet they were numbered just six, with three available eldunari. _We will find a way little one, we always have_.

Looking through the open window, he noted the fading light, darkness falling over the forest once more. Rising stiffly from his seat, Eragon bowed to the elf, twisting his hand over his heart in the unique elven show of respect. "I must take my leave Rhunon-elda. You have given us many things to question and ponder. Thank you."

"No, Shadeslayer, it is I who should thank you. You brought hope into the world once more, selflessly giving for the betterment of others. Come morning, a gift will be waiting for you outside your quarters, one that will help you in your endeavors against your adversaries. Now leave in silence, for I too wish to question and ponder all that has occurred," the smith finished in her brusque fashion.

Nodding, Eragon walked down the intricate stairs, his hands grazing along the wooden walls as he supported himself, his brain unable to process the cluster of information he had been bombarded with.

_Take your mind away from the troubles at hand little one. Arya wishes to speak with you. Firnen just contacted me. She will meet you outside Oromis' hut shortly if you are not overburdened by the words of the old one._

_No, queen of my heart, I will meet with Arya as she wishes. Although I am not sure I have the answers to her undoubtedly probing questions._

_Then let us fly. Tell her that which you feel is necessary, no more until another day when your heart is not so heavy._

* * *

**A/N:** Far out, over 7000 words for a chapter. My head hurts. But it's up! I was going to upload the chapter last night, but wasn't entirely happy, so have revised and edited it, and in fact culled at least 1000 words by shifting an event to a later chapter, although its mentioned here.

I had to change a bit of the timeline, As I remembered the elves were not Immortal before the bonding of the riders.

Also, for those who were interested in the Alex Rider fanfiction, it's onindefinite hold for the moment. Juggling two different stormuch with different feels would be a bit difficult. So yeah, that's beenshelves until further notice.

Ongoing preview:  
Chapter 15: Under a starry glade  
Now that just would be too nice of me to give away this chapter. I'm in the process of starting this chapter in properly. I'm going to be a bit paranoid with it and edit it a few times before I upload. Similarly there will be no previews or any equivalents for chapter 15: you're going to get it all at once, but therefore will have to wait longer.

16 - Brothers  
17 - Of Urgals and Love  
18 - Counsel and Council

Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated. It's really nice to have your support and get the email which says "New review" :)


	15. A starry glade

**A/N: **Wait what?! I said I was taking a week off, why is there an update? One, because this chapter has been plaguing me, I didn't like leaving it the way it was. So it's been checked and updated at the end. Now however, I will begin Chapter 16: Brothers.

... here's how things work. I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY would love reviews for this chapter. Its basically the culmination of having to wait four whole freaking books for the fulfilment of what the Inheritance Cycle hinted towards, and I want to know if I screwed it up.

Some people made some comments that it felt a bit too much like a one-shot, and frankly I agreed with them, as such there is an extra couple of hundred words attached to the end, which had previously been a bit different and in the next chapter.

Anyways, if you could please let me know where this chapter could be better (anybody asks for M rated stuff, I'll be annoyed, its rated T and is staying that way.) that would be incredible.

**Disclaimer:**I'm not Christopher Paolini, and do not own any of his works, or their representations in this fanfiction

* * *

Hot water raced down Eragon's back and he groaned at the relief the soothing liquid provided. His muscles still ached from his spar with Rhunon, but he was content to let the washroom do its work. Saphira had flown him back to Oromis's hut, where he had stripped and pulled the wooden bracket that released the warm water. He was keen to clean himself before his 'talk' with Arya.

Brushing a hand over the white scar that remained from his fight with Murtagh, Eragon shook, despite the warmth of the shower. Elven healers had offered to remove the tissue immediately following the battle for Ilirea, however in retrospect he was glad to have kept it. It was a reminder about the sacrifices he had to make for the betterment of Alagaesia. Sacrifices. Some greater than others. For the entirety of the war, he had known the reality of death, it had chased him from the corners of the spine to the depths of Farthern Dur. He was prepared to die for his cause, to free the races of the world. In the end, he lost something other than his life. He had lost her: the one who had captured his heart so consummately.

Arya. Eragon sighed, looking up to the cavity above him, the water rushing over his face. Something about her had seemed different since his arrival in Ellesmera. What is was, he could not discern, but he knew without question that their connection had changed, for better or for worse.

_She just wants to talk little one. Do not ponder that which you cannot control nor predict. I must hunt before Firnen arrives, my wings ache from the trials of late. _Saphira's thoughts cut through his addled brain, washing away his emotion, a tide retreating from the sands of his mind.

As her thoughts faded, the confusion and angst returned, crashing over him, despite his protests.

"Look at you." Eragon spat to himself, "the lead of the dragons riders, nervous about a simple talk." Frustration swirled into the worry and uncertainty, making his thoughts sharp and clear.

"Of course you're glad to see her, she's your closest friend, you should be happy to see her. You're sad because you're going to leave again, while she remains here. You can't change any of it, so why are you frustrated?" Eragon shouted into the fall of water. Memories rose unbidden in the silence following his outburst.

"Eragon, this cannot be. My feelings for you are that of a friend... Would you give up charge of the eggs?" every memory of Arya flashed through his mind, some joyous, many less so. He felt the development of their friendship, the lust turn to care, he stony countenance softening, and now a change he could not distinguish, perhaps one he did not wish to understand.

Sighing at the impossibility of it all, Eragon rubbed his chin, feeling the stubbles that lined his jaw, stubbornly refusing to cease their grow. Muttering the phrase he had devised on his first visit to Ellesmera, the follicles of hair were swept away in the flow, seemingly carrying his emotions with them.

Breathing deeply at the reprieve, Eragon relaxed into the heat, his mind freshening with every drop on his shoulders, his body lost in the steam.

* * *

Slipping into his navy blue leggings, Eragon took in the room around him for the first time since his masters death. Details of the room that he previously had ignored from the constraints of time stood out to him. The alcoves on the near wall that he had seen years ago were filled with an immense number of objects. Standing up and leaving his shirt beside the bed, Eragon examined some of the objects before him. With Glaedr traveling with Saphira, the lead rider could do little but ponder the purpose of some of the items.

A single feather lay in a bed of ashes, the plumage shimmering as flames in the darkness, a dull glow like the remnants of fire emanated from the stem. Looking closer, Eragon discerned tiny scratch and claw marks in the ashes, but he could see no other evidence of a creature.

Moving to the next alcove, Eragon saw a curious metal cylinder, around the size of a sword hilt. It was clearly from a time long ago, and was not of any design the auburn haired rider had ever read of. The polished silver was contrasted by black vertical designs on the lower portions. Picking up the device, Eragon twirled it in his hands, curious as to what it was or did. If it was a weapon, it was far more elegant than any he had wielded. Better judgement paused his finger as he felt a dull knob give slightly when he applied a gentle force to it.

"Perhaps not." Eragon said, suddenly concerned at what the cylinder could do, placing the steel canister back with caution, quickly glancing over the compartments immediately next to the strange object. A plain ring flashed at him briefly, but Eragon's gaze continued, determined not to touch anything he was not sure of.

The depression closest to the door, just above a low table, held a small Fairth. At first Eragon was unsure of the image depicted on the slate, and went to move on, until a recognizable detail caught his attention. A pattern that seemed somewhat familiar yet not immediately obvious sprung out from the slate. It was as if scales fell from his eyes as he looked upon Ellesmera as only birds or draconian creatures could. In the fairth, Eragon felt, rather than saw, the beauty and isolation that was Du Weldenvarden, as golden ants, swarmed into the forest.

"The elves in full retreat." he muttered to himself, comprehension dawning.

Fairths continued to line the wall, some more colorful than others, none of places or people Eragon recognized. The last three were turned over, the blank of the slate hanging. Curiosity and caution battled within him as his hand hovered next to the rock.

* * *

As Firnen landed silently in the grove, Arya leapt from his gorgeous neck and landed lightly on the ground, her thoughts racing.

_Be still Arya, a hunter does not hunt loudly, alerting prey to his presence._

_Firnen! Eragon is not my prey! Besides, the courting of dragons is hardly a quiet affair. You and your mate kept half of Ilirea up that night after the banquet._

_Are you comparing your situation with mine? As if Eragon is your mate? _The green dragon chuckled silently, his amber eyes twinkling in the dark.

_Firnen! _Arya growled at her dragon, blushing as she stormed to Oromi- no, Eragon's hut. Lost in her embarrassment, she pushed open the door without knocking or announcing herself and looked at the young man, who jerked away from a blank slate. She blushed further when she realised he was topless.

"Eragon. I'm so sorry! I should have knocked!"

_You're not nervous. _Firnen said sarcastically, noting her rushed words and their inelegance. She hushed him as Eragon raised a brow in amusement.

"Think little of it Arya. We are friends, and I was distracted, else I would have felt your approach."

She blushed as he walked back to the bed, retrieving his azure shirt. She couldn't help but stare at the rippling muscles as they stood out from his back. He would never be confused for an elf while topless, least of all for the white scar that shone from his lower back. Elves rarely kept scars or any sign of damage that was not embellishing, all efforts to maintain their visage of the fair folk.

The brown eyes opposite her shone with gentle amusement as he turned to her, face questioning. All her plans on how to begin this discussion rushed from her head, as if eager to allow nervousness to guide her voice.

_Be still. _Firnen said, it's just Eragon.

"It's just Eragon." she repeated to herself silently as the lead rider waited patiently.

* * *

_Something is wrong Saphira. She's... different._

_Eragon. It's just Arya._ - Saphira noted quietly, as if an echo of a thought. The sapphire dragoness continued more certainly,_ As steadfast as her strength is, even the elves have limits as to how much they can endure before they falter. Do not allow your actions tonight break her._

Arya had moved over to the alcoves, facing away from Eragon as her lithe fingers glided over the objects displayed in the wall. He watched as her long raven hair shifted with her movements, its dance entrancing him. She lingered on each object only briefly, before moving on, rarely giving a display more than a seconds thought.

"I never had the chance to examine the interior of your master's home, amongst my duties as queen. To be honest Eragon, I had barely noticed the display here, such was the raging torrent of my thoughts."

"You always did seem distracted when we talked." Eragon said gently. Arya half turned to him with a sad smile.

"For such a long living and slow moving race, the elves seemed to bring any and every petty dispute before me. I sometimes wonder whether they do it to test me, see how far I can be pushed. In the first week of my rule, I barely slept an hour and Firnen had to fly me away from Tialdari Hall so I would not collapse with exhaustion."

"I am sorry for what you have had to endure Arya. I cannot imagine the strain you must bear leading your people." Eragon spoke softly, moving over to her and taking her hand gently, a vestige of a squeeze; enough to let her know he was there for her. She smiled at their joined hands.

"How are you faring after your spar with Rhunon today? The elves were most impressed with your skills."

Eragon bowed his head in acknowledgement of the praise. "The aches are no more than I have dealt with before."

Arya nodded, silent, as if pondering a great dilemma.

_Saphira and I shall return by morning. Try not to get into any difficulties Eragon; Saphira is adamant you seem to find trouble when she is not around to protect you._

Eragon raised a brow and pouted at the window in mock annoyance at the green dragon. Arya let go of Eragon's hand and placed it gently on his arm, looking towards the window. The slightest quiver ran down Eragon's body at her touch, his arm warm where she held it.

"I am here Firnen. He will be safe." Fire glinted in her eyes as she spoke, her face glowing gently, although the sun had set, a pink vestige on the horizon the only hint of the light that filled the world.

A low rumble shook the trees outside the cabin as Firnen laughed, a deep base that reminded Eragon of the Drums of Derva heralding the age of a new dwarven monarch. His auburn hair shook with his head as he sighed at the dragons on the grass, shooing them with a mental wave. Nature came alive as the two dragons leapt to the heavens, the forest aware of the incredible power wielded by the beasts. Guiding Arya to the window, Eragon smiled at the interlocking tails that flew into the night, scales reflecting the torches of Ellesmera below. They stood in silence, her touch on his arm a constant reminder that something was wrong, something was different. And yet she looked unchanged from the nine years apart. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of the dragons departing, something undistinguishable in her eyes.

A slight jerk of his arm brought his attention to the woman next to him, who had been looking steadily back at his unwavering eyes. His heart fluttered as he focused on her, the most beautiful woman he had ever known. And yet, he considered sadly, they were destined to remain apart. Her grimace confirmed the reflection of her thoughts, and he held her face with his free hand, his palm stroking her cheek softly. Tilting her head into his hand, she closed his touch, placing her palm over his and closing her eyes.

Eragon fought back the urge to embrace Arya as she was. _You hurt her once with your brash actions, do not destroy all that you have worked for now! _he bellowed to his heart and body, which urged him to greater and more passionate actions. A slow warmth seeped from his arm and hand where her alabaster skin touched his, seeking to overwhelm his control.

It took every fiber of resistance for Eragon not to lean in and brush his lips against those glistening across from him. With regret, he gently released his touch on her cheek, letting her know the moment had passed. Emerald eyes opened as if from a deep slumber. A decade after he first looked upon the elven noble, she still took his breath away, her eyes captivating as completely as they had in his wandering dreams.

"May we walk amongst the forest Eragon? There is somewhere I wish to take you." Arya spoke slowly, as if each word were being weighed up individually. Despite his tired body, he wanted to spend every moment he could with her while they could, so he nodded an affirmation and turned to the door, holding it ajar for her to depart through.

"Always the gentleman." Arya noted with a smile.

The crescent moon shone through the canopy of pines as the two leaders walked silently through the forest, side by side. They remained separate, for as Arya had noted while Eragon shut the hut door, it would be unseemly for the elven queen and lead rider to show such affection without a public announcement. He had raised his eyebrows at the subtleties of elven society, quietly reflecting on the machinations of his birthplace. Rumors and gossip were a part of Carvahall, even so much as to be a currency of its own, secrets were traded amongst the women like gold.

And so, as they had for nine years, male and female remained separate for their duty, discussing little as they wandered the forests of Du Weldenvarden. The silence between the riders was broken only by the sounds of the forest, neither of the friends needing to communicate their comfort with the companionable quiet. They had been through too much together to require petty conversation to fill their time together.

Stepping into the clearing that had changed his very being, the great pine which sheltered the Agaeti Blodhren groaned ominously. Eragon grimaced and paused in his stride, unsure of what would happen. Arya stepped closer to him and grasped his right hand with her left. As the silver scars marking their status as riders brushed, energy sparked between the two, fire and ice flaring up their arms. It disappeared as immediately as it had begun, leaving his arm sore, although he did not relinquish grip on Arya's hand while she leant into him.

"She will not harm you while I am here. Your return was a shock to many, and Linnea is not one to willingly accept change."

Eragon nodded, his eyes firmly watching the ground around him for the roots which would so easily entrap a dragon in their grasp. "As you say, however let us move onwards with haste, for I do not wish to test the patience of the forest."

Arya smiled and stepped back to the edge of the shadows, bringing Eragon with her. She continued to lead him through the dark forest, her destination unclear to him. Had he been in lesser company, Eragon would have noted all the flora and fauna they passed, striving to name each in his mind. The only thought his mind held however, was the scent of crushed pine, a constant reminder of his dearest friend. Slowing slightly, the beautiful queen allowed Eragon to draw alongside her as they touched the edge of another clearing. The moon shaved their padded feet, its greying glow giving the clearing a ghostly appearance. A sense of foreboding gripped Eragon as his eyes widened, remembering the details of the clearing vividly. Without magic upon the air as it was during the height of the Agaeti Blodhren, the scene appeared dulled and plainer than he remembered.

Unmistakably though, he knew where he was, and where he was being taken. In confirmation, Arya glanced down at him from her star-ward gaze, and spoke two words which sent a visible shiver up Eragon's spine. "Trust me," she said simply, returning to the stars.

Gazing at the stars with her, Eragon hastily built walls around his crashing emotions, stopping pain from seeping into his being. Memories of that night flushed unbidden and unwelcome into his head, and he cringed internally at the thought of his words that night. Despite the growing ache in his heart, he focused on the crescent moon above, mental barriers strengthening with every passing moment. He would not allow her to feel his sorrow at his actions from that night, should she touch his mind.

An eternity seemed to pass for Eragon as they stood hand in hand gazing at the night sky, seemingly so familiar, and yet so far out of reach. Only the continued darkness convinced him that days had not passed without either rider moving; Eragon fighting his emotions, desperate to master control of himself, Arya seemingly oblivious to all beings except the heavenly.

Suddenly without a word, Arya turned on her heel and continued in the direction Eragon knew she would, towards the quiet rustle of a distant stream. Pausing to hold his resolve and consider his options, not that he would seriously consider anything but imitating her path, the brown eyed rider followed along, padding across the needled floor silently towards the hidden stream, the presence of Arya guiding him to her impossibly still figure. Her eyes were closed tight as she listened to the soft gurgle of the river, its noise silencing the sounds of the ancient forest.

Drawing alongside, Eragon sighed abruptly as an ache riddled his heart, every beat a spike through his being. He momentarily entertained the notion that she was here to bring him pain, but dismissed it with the barest of thoughts, common sense and trust overriding his emotional heart.

"Do you think of that night?" Arya said suddenly, looking sharply at Eragon, who saw her turn in the corners of his vision.

_Be careful how you respond little one._

Eragon paused, considering her question before laughing softly at himself. "Not often, as it is not an event I wish to recall. However when I do consider that night, I only remind myself of the errors I made. So many mistakes."

"Yes, they were mistakes. At the time," Arya paused, uncertainty dominating her posture.

_How bright the stars... and how beautiful... _words floated back to Eragon, escaping his mental prison to flash in his mind with a grimace.

Frowning at the memory the lead rider spoke up, twisting a hand over his heart in respect. _"_I have made many blunders and poor decisions Arya, for the ones of that night, I am once again sorry."

Arya turned to him fully, grasping both his hands in hers and looking at him intently.

"Eragon" she whispered along with his true name, to which he shuddered, the sound of his very being shaking him to the core, "You have no need to apologise. We both made mistakes that fateful night or in the years since, whether we realised our mistakes or not."

"Arya." Eragon smiled at her and leaned in only slightly, whispering her true name, waiting for her inevitable reaction. She merely blinked at him at the sound of the words, as he stood back, surprise etching his face with creases. Lost for words, Eragon just gestured at her, mutely opening and closing his mouth.

Smiling a reminiscent smile, Arya answered his question.

"Upon our return to Du Weldenvarden, I wandered the hall of the elven monarchs, greeting many of the kings and queens of the past. Your texts won't have spoken at length on the hall, as it is a secret that few know of. While I slept in the shadow of my mothers resting place, I realised I had been taking many things for granted, neglecting joy from my heart. When I left, I felt different, joyful for the first time since a green dragon egg cracked in my lap. Perhaps I will show you the place one day."

Eragon nodded, his jumbled thoughts not entirely comprehending what she had just said, however one thing stood out. She was different, and hope budded in his heart.

"Eragon." Arya said, stepping forward and cupping his face in her hands, which shook slightly at their contact with his jaw. "If you are willing, I would like to tell you my true name."

Remembering the first time those words had been spoken to him, Eragon replied as he had ten years before.

"I would be honoured to hear it." He could not help but feel a sense of joy rising in his heart, the rational thoughts of pessimism swept away by his beating heart.

Arya stepped forward, the tips of their boots glancing off each other. The entire time, her eyes never left his, and he saw the truth in her deep green pupils. She had changed. Placing her soft lips indescribably close to his ear, her warm and unsteady breath causing his heart to quicken further, she uttered a name. In a barely audible whisper, the name rang in his mind, along with a rush of understanding and joy. Parts of the name he knew, for it was comparable to that which she had told him a decade ago in such a similar fashion. A subtle realignment of the words meant the world to him, and one new phrase that above all reverberated through his soul. A phrase that changed everything.

* * *

Arya stepped back, her face blank. Had she been able to utter those words a decade ago, she would have known his answer. But years had changed, and despite the truth of his true name, the conceptualization and practice of his love for her were two separate identities. For what was more subjective than the giving of love. She knew there were still questions he wished to ask, parts of her true name which would baffle anybody who had not experienced their life exactly as she.

Some questions though, she knew he would ask, questions that could not wait for time to resolve.

Eragon smiled. "Yours is a beautiful name Arya Drottning, and I am proud and touched to be a part of your life."

Arya smiled back at him, resisting the urge to jump into his arms. Even at this, one of the best of occasions, it would be unseemly, and in many respects highly inappropriate. A frown from the auburn haired rider quickly affirmed her idea's inappropriateness.

"I mean no offense, but what of your duty? Of leading your people?" She took a deep breath, as her words echoed in her mind _you are too young_. Straightening slightly she spoke quietly in the ancient language, for the information was for his ears only.

"When this crisis is dealt with, I will revoke my role as queen of the elves in the land of Alagaesia. Firnen and I will return to Evarinya Mor'ranr." Eragon's nod confirmed that he had seen the change in her name, the shift of her priorities, and the love that had bloomed as a rose in her heart. Their separation had been a thorn, her attraction to the incredible rider a beautiful but painful feeling for many years.

She was shocked when she looked to Eragon's face, which was turned down as he considered what she had said. Pain gripped her chest as the thorn tightened around her heart once more.

"Why do you consider this Eragon?" she cried out, hurt creasing her face. "Why do you continue to be so stubborn? What more can I say that hasn't been said? I love you!" The queen knew she was raising her voice and thinking little of her words, but she cared not for their composition, as long as they made her message clear. The suppression and concealing of feelings had weighed on her heart for too long, the peaks and lows of the development of their friendship battering away at her.

Across from her Eragon stepped forward to her, until she could count the eyelashes rimming his eyes, see the blue veins that circled his deep brown irises.

"You love me." Eragon said, as if the words were unfamiliar to him. With a pang she realised that they probably were. All thoughts were swept away as he wrapped a hand around he thin waist and brought their lips together.

* * *

Soft lips. Indescribably soft. Almost ten years of waiting, and if he was honest, as Arya wrapped her arms around his neck, it was worth it. The scent of pine needles tickled his mouth as they held each other, lips grazing their opposite. He pulled her against him gently, only applying enough pressure to guide her; giving her the space to pull away. But the monarch of the elves and ruler of the knotted throne only hummed gently against his lips as their bodies closed the gap between them.

Eragon noticed this and more as his senses heightened to a greater level. His body flushing with adrenaline, everything was clear to him. And yet she was everything to him. He did not care for the forest around, but for the one whom he loved, and the taste of her glistening lips against his. Breaking away gently to catch his breath, Eragon smiled and rested his forehead against Arya who grinned shyly in return. It was not long before his body urged him for more of the intoxicating drug that he had sampled. He joyfully obliged, soft lips upon his once more, slow and loving. They stood there, holding their opposite, drinking in their presence, until the darkness of the night faded to grey, and they separated as the land did with the night.

"Thank you." Arya muttered to Eragon, resting her chin on his shoulder. Slightly bemused, Eragon cocked his head in question. She looked at him genuinely.

"For waiting. For not giving up."

Eragon didn't respond, but wrapped his arms around her and embraced her, stroking her hair with his hand, breathing in her smell as her breath caressed his tapered ear. "Never" he whispered. They held each other in the silence of the sunrise, at peace with themselves.

_I suggest you refrain from such displays if you wish your secret to remain as such. Else Laucki and others may manipulate each of you to their own benefits._

The mental voice was neither Saphira's nor Firnen's, and as Eragon looked into the surroundings trees, his gaze settled on a pair of luminous red pupils.

_Solembum?_ He asked, disengaging from Arya and turning towards the glowing eyes. Nonetheless he did not release her hand, rubbing it with his thumb absent-mindedly.

_Must you remain so dim rider? Refrain from continuing your foolish questions, else I shall let you be found in the arms of the queen. Which would be... most embarrassing with a war approaching._

Eragon apologised, dropping his hands to his side and stepping subtly away from Arya, lest they be discovered by elven messengers.

_You should know that Angela, the elven ambassador and a tribe of smelly humans will arrive within a few hours. Your presence will undoubtedly be expected on their admission into Ellesmera. I was instructed to inform you_. The werecat spoke from the shadows.

Arya frowned next to him, the stony facade he knew so well overcoming her features. "We will be there werecat. I trust there is a reason for their imminent arrival."

Before the beast could respond, the forest behind them rustled with the approach of a being. Eragon turned in time to see William crashing through the undergrowth, speed denying him grace and quiet.

"Shadeslayers," he said, bowing slightly "Lord Dathedr wishes you to know that a group of humans approaches. Roran Stronghammer is among the troupe. They bring tidings of bad news."

Eragon gestured for the young man to continue, curious as to the news. Arya similarly nodded at William, both indicating their support of him.

"I am sorry to inform you that the city of Carvahall, has been destroyed, along with the town of Yazuac. The port of Teirm is under siege from the elven army, but they have yet to break the fort. War has begun."

* * *

**A/N:** So what did you think? PM me if you liked the addition and already reviewed before.

Some good news though; well I think it's good news. I have written a One-shot between Eragon and Angela, when Eragon has his future prophesised in Teirm. It's Angela's POV from that scene in Eragon (the book, not character ;P). Check it out, if you like it, review it, and if I get enough, I may make a bit of a series of short Angela POV stories. It's titled "**Curious**"

To previous reviewers:

Inthehood: thanks for your continued support, really appreciate it :)

Bananaman28: thank you, glad it was accurate. Spent a bit of time on the Inheritance wiki making sure I got my facts straight :)

Foggraven: glad you like the longer chapters, unfortunately I can't guarantee they'll all be long. I do try to flesh them out though, so we shall see how we go.

cayucoscali: well done picking up the three references :)

the guest who reviewed: lotsa questions, this is good. Questions mean I have to think of why I did things and rationalise them in my own mind again. The true name will/does make anappearance, but not until later chapters. Keep in mind two things however. From chapter 14, Rhunon said Laucki could not be attacked directly by magic. Even with the name of all names, this still stands. More explanation to come later.

As to the vault containing the eldunari and eggs, I had intended it that once riders and dragons were 'knighted' or graduated or the equivalent, their true names would open the safe. However, of course this would require each of them to know their true names, a not insignificant task. I might go back and refine that a bit in that particular chapter and make it clearer.

You guys are incredible. Keep me posted, especially on what needs work (although I love praise too ;D )


	16. Brothers

**A/N: **Back again, with the full chapter sixteen. I'll respond to reviewers below. Although the preview has not changed significantly in terms of plot development, it has been modified slightly to correct a few errors I found while reading through it.

Hope you enjoy. Please review if you don't, or can see room for improvement.

* * *

Eragon nodded to William, grimacing slightly. It was inevitable that the elves would overpower Teirm, despite the tiered layers of the city. Even the hardiest defenses could fall, as Roran had proven time and time again. "Thank you William, I am aware of the situation. You may inform Lord Dathedr that we will be there for the arrival of my cousin and the group accompanying him."

The man nodded and loped into the forest, his feet gliding over the rough ground quietly. Eragon turned back to Solembum, to ask if there was any other news of the refugees from Carvahall, but the red eyes had disappeared into the brown and green hues of the thick overhang. Whether Solembum was still there though, Eragon was unsure. He could not comprehend how Angela knew details of the land that even the most powerful leaders were unaware of, and he suspected he would never understand.

"You knew?" a lilting voice tinted with anger made him turn apprehensively to the raven haired queen, who's brow was creased in annoyance. Wondering what he had done wrong, Eragon responded with a slow nod, trying to gauge her thoughts in her eyes.

"Carvahall? Your brother's home? YOUR home? Burnt to ashes, and Teirm under siege. Yet not once last night or over the past two days did you think to mention that, when we could have acted?"

Eragon gaped, his head spinning. _How could I have told her? Even the elves do not move fast enough to have saved Teirm, let alone Carvahall._ Regardless of the possibility of rescue, they had barely had a moment alone from prying ears when he had been thinking about the issue plaguing the land, rather than the issue plaguing his heart. Trying to repair the situation, Eragon bowed meekly to the stiff figure opposite him.

"My queen, I am deeply sorry for my lack of communication. I should have been more thoughtful, and did not mean to offend. I beg your pardon Arya." he said clearly in his own tongue. He did not trust himself to vocalise the words in the language of truth

She frowned at his response, "Thank you Eragon. Nonetheless, I am still displeased with the situation. Your words do not alleviate your error. I may be your friend, and indeed more, however I remain queen of this land until the current conflict abates and will demand better. Even from the lead rider." The queen turned abruptly and strode towards Ellesmera, long strides moving her quickly from his sight.

Eragon kept his face passive as his insides raged at her reprimand. _She of all people should recognize how useless the words would have been, and that I did not misinform her deliberately. She's just like her mother._

_Yes Eragon, she is. And yet she is much more, and will be much more than Islanzadi ever was. Do not despair at Arya's actions, she merely reacted as the queen should react, not as your friend. Her true name may have changed, but her role demands her to uphold values which are contrary to that which you both believe._ Saphira's voice broke the silence in his head and his ears perked at her presence, which had been a mere tendril through the night.

_When did you get back Saphira?_

_Little one, I was never far, but Firnen and I just parted over Tialdari hall._ She sent him a mental image, tinted in azure blue, of her flying away from the city. _I will be with you soon. You have much to tell._

Despite himself, Eragon blushed. Saphira of course knew what had transpired the previous evening, but would want a more thorough explanation from him in person. He sighed at the turbulent ride his mind had endured recently.

The highest of heights, and the deepest of lows, all within such a short period. Sitting on a log by the stream, he tore a strip of bark from the rotting trunk and retrieved a sharp stone from the gurgling water. His swirling feelings guiding his hand, he began to carve glyphs into the bark tablet, a summation of his overwhelming sense of unease.

* * *

Standing at the end of the line of riders, Eragon glanced back towards the elven throne, nodding to Dazhgra and the rest of his apprentices, each dressed in tunics that matched the brilliance of their dragons scales. Ismira stood closest to the elven queen, the youngest rider would gain the most experience from the queens interactions with her audience. Eragon in contrast, was already well versed in the subtle politics of the elves. Godok stood stiffly next to Ismira; he had moaned when Eragon had left him the bright weave and had complained at how ridiculous it made him look. In contrast to the dwarf, Dazhgra held himself proudly in a ebony vest, his head high as he stood opposite Lord Fiolr, who seemed disgusted to be so close to the Urgal. When they had taken their places around the clearing, Dazhgra had bellowed from deep in his throat, causing the elven lord to start in alarm.

Verdra stood in a shimmering silver top and dull leggings, her face measurably blank at the arrival of the Carvahall refugees. Eragon marveled at her control of her emotions, which was equal to the elves ability to look nonchalant. Above the riders, five dragons circled slowly, lazily rising on the currents of air. With a smile, Eragon watched Saphira twist in the air, he blue tail slapping against Firnen below her.

_Behave._ He said quietly with amusement.

_You do realise how boring it is up here don't you?_ The quick reply arrowed back. The dragonness had expressed her pride at Eragon's actions the previous night, but had been restless since, wishing to speak with Arya alone. Saphira cared little for the queen's blank face which held just the slightest hint of annoyance whenever her eyes passed over Eragon.

_She'll understand Eragon. Do not fret._ She paused mid-sentence and flight, looking to the west. _They're here._ She said simply, bugling at the procession approaching. The riders looked up, grinning at the rolling sound of their dragons roar. To each of them, there was nothing quite as beautiful as their own partner flying in the blue skies.

Eragon looked to his right, into the thin path that lead away from the knotted throne, his heart comforted at the arrivals. Through the wavering beams cast from the branches, Roran walked with Vanir, leading a group towards the line of elves and riders. His cousin flashed a tight grin to Eragon as they passed, although Vanir remained typically stoic in his emotions as he approached his queen. Behind them, Katrina walked alongside Angela, who was skipping across the ground, her thick locks bouncing with every step. Eragon stifled a laugh as he watched the carefree herbalist as she made her way towards Arya.

Behind the two women two young boys pushed each other closer to the queen, fighting in barely hushed voices. Eragon smiled at Roran's twins as they grabbed and annoyed each other, their mother turning and admonishing them regularly, to which they would pause briefly. But only very briefly. They reminded him of two other brown haired males, who used to find equal joy in wrestling with each other, regardless of the occasion or formalities expected.

A significant group of humans followed the young boys, looking tired and disheveled. Some of them Eragon recognized and nodded to as they passed, smiling as they welcomed him back to Alagaesia. Inside though, his heart wanted to do anything but smile. The time in Ellesmera, although short, had reaffirmed his sense of angst at the riders return. This land was no longer safe, and no longer felt like home for him.

_What happens will happen, and there is little you or I can do to prevent it._ Saphira said from above, looking down at him. _He is watching again. William is quite interested in you._

Eragon looked to Lord Dathedr opposite Verdra, where William was standing behind, his hair swept over his ears, belying his human heritage. Sharp eyes watched Eragon as he gazed back at the man. Reaching out to him, Eragon spoke quietly to the man, as the last of the group approached the throne, leaving the clearing crowded and overly warm. The mental barriers melted as Eragon made himself known to the strange mind, as solid as a human's yet musical and alien like the elves.

_Is there something on your mind Will?_

_Only that you look unsettled by something._

_Ellesmera and the coming days unsettle me. This place is no home or sanctuary for the riders, especially with the conflicts around us._

_Aye, I understand. This city - any city in Du Weldenvarden, has never felt like home for me. I have grown used to hiding it though. Imagine the place you call home in your mind, and you'll relax, taking the tension from your face; though I doubt many would notice it._

_If the elven settlements do not to your comfort, where do you call home?_ Eragon asked, curious.

_I shall show you tomorrow in our session by your hut. It would not be proper for us to continue this conversation in such times._ William said, gently pushing Eragon from his mind and looking towards Roran, who had approached the knotted throne. As walls were built around him, Eragon saw a flash of crashing blue waves and a sense of belonging emanating from Will, and then it was gone.

* * *

Eragon watched as Roran Stronghammer walked up to the elven queen, heavy steps resonating through the clearing, trademark hammer hanging loosely from his belt. Arya stood impassive at the throne, regal power all but written across her face. Roran was no stranger to royalty, Eragon noted, as his cousin bowed smoothly, but notably shallowly to the queen.

"Thank you Arya Drottning, for your houses hospitality in these dark times." Eragon noted the distaste in Roran's words, his lack of respect clear in his half-hearted attempt at showing respect. Nearby, Katrina's face tightened at her husbands words, despite their eloquence.

To her credit, Arya either did not notice the bite in Roran's words or disregarded them and bowed in return, twisting her hand over her chest. "It is an honour Roran Stronghammer, to host your family and people, especially as mine own brothers and sisters are the cause of your hardships."

Roran nodded in response, his face easing slightly as he stepped aside for Vanir to greet the elven queen. As Vanir glided forward with the grace of the elves, Arya moved quickly to step up to the man, twisting her hand once more and uttering the elven greeting, showing her respect to the ambassador. While the elves spoke their traditional custom, Eragon rolled his eyes at William subtly, to which the man stroked his face with his palm as if thoughtful, hiding a smile. Eragon's reaction did not go unnoticed, as he caught Arya's gaze lingering on his with annoyance.

"Your task, Vanir-vodhr, has been harder than most of our people in this past month. I thank you for your courage in the dire circumstances you have encountered this past month."

The pale elf nodded, bowing and stepping back fluidly as Angela bounced forward. Eragon watched the eldest of the elves twist their arms over their chest in respect for the herbalist.

"Well this is all lovely isn't it?" she said brightly to nobody in particular, turning between the riders and elven lords. "Look at your all, standing around like pillars of stone, where is the interest in that?!" her gaze flashes between Eragon and Arya. "Although..." she trailed off mysteriously, turning back to Arya and curtsying to the queen.

Ismira giggled softly and beside Verdra, Dazhgra smirked. The elven lords seemed too taken aback to respond, but Dathedr and Roran's eyes glinted, the amusement at Angela's final quip outweighing their shock at her disregard of any form of custom.

Arya smiled a joyless smile at Angela, and welcomed her to Ellesmera. "From the reaction of some of the lords, this is not your first visit here is it Angela?"

"Not in the slightest, although it was long ago that I set eyes upon the knotted throne of the elven monarch, and by a different name. Not that I'll tell you in front of such... curious ears." Angela's eyes flickered to Eragon once more, drawing another smirk from Roran.

"Indeed. Then let us not waste time on further introductions, for they will occur in due time." Arya nodded, spreading her arms in general welcome of the rest of the group, stepping forward to greet Katrina.

The elven lords dispersed into the crowd, distaste coloring Lord Fiolr plainly. Eragon stepped behind the dwarves and Dazhgra, muttering to the three of them. "Once we are finished here, meet me at the Crags of Tel'nair, I have an exercise for each of you." Eragon grinned at the slumping shoulders as he patted Ismira on the shoulder, as he stepped to greet Angela, who was twirling her curls absently.

At the sight of him, Angela grinned impishly, a smile spreading across her face.

"You know?"

"A foolish question once again. We still have much to teach you. The question you should be asking is how much I know, not that it would do you any good: I would not want to scare the lead rider, that would be bad for publicity."

"Why do I not doubt that?" Eragon said with a grin.

"Because you are no longer a naive child, unlike many older and wiser than you." Angela paused, waving to Arya as she looked again to Eragon, her face taut.

"She seems unhappy. Did you run away from a kiss again?"

Eragon snarled, not deigning to respond to the herbalist. Her bright face turned to him seriously, her eyes piercing him, as if looking through him.

"There is no force more potent than an angry woman. It is not by chance that many male animals lose their life trying to win the heart of a female. Give her time though, she'll come back to you. You have done little wrong... for a change." she said with a strange grin. "Besides, we have more important issues to discuss"

Eragon raised his eyebrows at her. There were many issues he could discuss, although her doubted Angela wished to talk about them. He never understood the machinations of the herbalist, her ways were as unknown to him as the nature of spirits. "Such as?" he said, gesturing for her to elaborate.

"Well, for one, whether light is a particle or a wave." she said, tossing her head and gesturing around the clearing.

"Neither?" Eragon guessed "It's just light."

The herbalist shook her head sadly. "So uneducated in so many ways. It is a wonder the riders flourished as vividly as they did, with such little knowledge of important things."

Eragon said nothing, as she continued, poking Eragon none too lightly in the chest.

"We must also discuss why you are HERE. The knuckle bones of a dragon have never lied, and yet Eragon Shadeslayer stands in Alagaesia, a land he was cursed to never return to."

Eragon nodded. "I have a few theories for that, but we may discuss it later, away from, what was it? Curious ears" he said with a grin.

"Perhaps there is hope for you yet. But as you say rider, another time. Go greet your family with joy, for many no longer have that blessing," the herbalist replied with a grin, although Eragon noted the sad tinge in her eyes.

* * *

Running up to her father, Ismira leapt onto his back, hugging his neck and laughing, a visage of joy. He turned to her, putting her down and said loudly,

"Excuse me you lady, have you seen my little Ismira? I can't see her anywhere at all, I fear my cousin may have lost her."

"Dad, it's me!" she replied, shaking his head with her arms and he grinned, kissing her on the brow.

"Yes, yes it is. Now you best say hello to your mother, she's been worried sick about you." Roran said with a wink, earning him a gentle slap on the back of his head.

Ismira looked to her mother, who was smiling, her eyes glistening with the hint of tears. Wordlessly they embraced each other and clung to their opposite as if the world were burning around them. With so many dragons around, she realised that wasn't an impossibility.

Sensing Selender's slow descent with the thunder of dragons, Ismira stepped away from her mother and looked up at her partner, smiling at the bronze beast that had become such an important part of her life.

Grinning at the twins look of awe, she laughed. "Oi Lackhammers," she cried, employing the family tease, "stop acting like fools. She doesnt like it when people stare. In fact, Selender often eats them."

_Your sister speaks the truth little two legs. The smallest humans are the tastiest._ Selender projected with a laugh, as the boys stepped towards their father in fright.

"Now now Ismira, that's not nice, very unlady like." Roran admonished, looking up to her partner of heart and mind, who had grown significantly since their departure.

"Yes, although that never stopped you," Eragon said as he sidled next to her father, who rolled his eyes at Eragon, before grinning and embracing him roughly.

"It's good to see you too Eragon." Roran said, while Ismira watched her mother approach Selender, who had landed and was watching the proceedings carefully.

"It is a pleasure to see you again Selender; I am pleased to see Ismira safe and well." she said, bowing lightly to the dragon.

"Well met, Katrina mother-Stronghammer. I could not live if your daughter or the Stronghammer family were to come to any harm" Selender nodded her head gently.

"And nor could I," said Eragon as he hugged Katrina.

"It's good to have you back Eragon, we have all missed you greatly," she said quietly, just loud enough for Ismira to hear.

"Aye, although I shall not remain, this place holds too much pain for me." he replied just as quietly, making Ismira frown at the thought of leaving so soon.

"I understand completely." her mother nodded, separating and smiling weakly at her daughter.

"Although I don't believe I've met these two young gentlemen." Eragon continued with a grin, looking down at the twins.

Ismira nearly snorted. _Gentlemen?_ She said to Selender in ridicule.

_He is being nice, do not spoil it._

"Well then gentlemen" Roran emphasized the word, "say hullo to Uncle Eragon."

"Hello Uncle Eragon sir," they chorused, before one of them stepped forward.

"I'm Garrow, although my friends call me Row, and this is Carn. We're twins, which means we look the same. Father often gets us confused and mixed up, but mum is cleverer than him and always gets us right," Garrow gushed excitedly.

"Twins? I never knew" Eragon said earnestly, to which Garrow beamed.

Catching her father watching her, she looked at him, tilting her head in question. He nodded to Garrow and Carn, and flicked his head over his shoulder. She frowned at his instruction, to which he raised his eyebrows, a slight hint of annoyance in his eyes. Knowing it would be easier not to argue, she bundled up her brothers and led them away from her parents and Eragon.

* * *

"She is very impressive." Eragon said with a smile to the parents of his youngest apprentice.

"As are all your riders." Katrina noted modestly, to which he smiled fondly at his other apprentices, who were engaged in animate conversations across the clearing.

"Yes, they've learnt well. Blodgharm has done an incredible job." he said absently, his gaze lingering on Arya, who was walking with Lord Dathedr through the crowd. Abruptly she stopped and looked at him, eyes unfathomable as they pierced his.

Roran raised his brows and Katrina smiled knowingly. "Well, I guess some things never change." he said sarcastically.

"No, somethings change." Eragon replied, still looking at Arya, unspoken words passing between them.

"Well tell us then, what is it between you and the queen?" Roran demanded, snapping Eragon's gaze back to the Stronghammers. Noting Selender's craned neck he replied briefly. "Perhaps another time, when there aren't dragons eavesdropping on our conversation," he said, turning to glare at Selender, who's tail had perked up when Eragon began speaking.

_You forget little one, that there is always a dragon eavesdropping._ Saphira said, roaring above them with glee. After a slight pause, Roran and Katrina began laughing, Eragon joining in; shaking his head at the dragoness.

* * *

"What's it like Ismira?" Carn said excitedly as they walked away from their parents, Garrow nodding vigorously at his brothers question.

"What's WHAT like?" she retorted, to which the twins rolled their eyes. They had inherited their father's brown hair but their mothers equally brown eyes, rendering them remarkably like her master, although they did not have quite as smooth a face or his pointed ears.

"What's it like being a dragon rider?" Garrow said in exasperation, Carn spreading his arms like wings and 'swooping' around them. And so Ismira began to tell them of her adventures across the seas, while they listened enrapt with her tale of dragons, elves, battles and all manner of things; constantly interrupting with questions to which she sighed at their curiosity.

"And then we flew here and met all the rest of the elves, although none of them are as nice as Blodgharm, he's my favorite." she finished, slightly disappointed that the blue elf hadn't joined them in their return.

"It must be so exciting, you're SO lucky." Garrow said quietly, hugging his sister to her surprise. She had never been too close with her brothers, but the realization that they had missed her as much as she had missed them made her smile and reach out to embrace Carn too.

She frowned as she looked into the forest next to them. _It is different Selender._

_What is different, little one?_

_I missed mother and father when we left, and my brothers too. But now that we're back, it feels strange, as if I don't quite fit in._

_You are a rider, partner of my heart. There are few who understand what you've been through, or what you will have to go through._

_Uncle Eragon does, and Dazhgra and the dwarves._

_Aye, and you would do well to talk to them about it, as I shall speak with Saphira and the others of my race about it._

_Thank you Selender._

_I am always here for you little one._

_I know._ She said, hugging her brothers even tighter.

* * *

**A/N: **BOOM. Well, actually, a distinct lack of boom in this chapter. No violence, no action... just INTERaction between characters. Also, I thought it high time to introduce Roran and Katrina's sons (Ismira's brothers).

This chapter raises a few questions, and answers not many of them. Guess what though? Bad luck :P

Just saying. Over 100 reviews! :O You guys are awesome :) :) :)

Something people have noted in chapters past is that it can be hard to follow who is talking/who's POV sections of the chapter are written in. If this is still the case for this chapter, please let me know. There is a more objective way to do it, but it is less elegant and I will only implement it if I have to.

To respond to some of the most recent reviews...

Evatross: thank you :) I'll try keeping it up

predatorform: Eragon is more mature, but he still has some of the 'playfullness (for lack of a better term) that he had during the war with Galbatorix. More ExA? That, I can do... but only in moderation. More action... yeah, that'll happen. Give it time. Keep in mind how long it took me to get Eragon back to Alagaesia properly, now I've gotta get the stubborn fool out of Ellesmera. But there will be some action in a chapter coming up, possibly the next, but if not, definitely in chapter 18

Karma475: thank you kindly, glad you're enjoying it. If you want one which I believe is written beautifully (but needs some work to get into), check out Voice of Reason by Blueasice24.

d-saintsation-b: hahaha... I have considered what I will do with Ismira a number of times, but alas, I shall not reveal it until it is published (gotta decide first though, although I am fairly confident with my current direction for the stronghammer family)

Really you HAD to da that: ok looks sheepish i will write some more :P But thanks :)

Reading4Ever: Thank you for the VERY high praise. :)

Eragon-killed-Durza: Thank you for your (many) reviews. To sum up a response, THANK YOU. In terms of not having Eragon swear etc, I found that (as you pointed out) changed the character too much, and didn't feel natural/flowing. So thanks :)

Angel Azreal: Nice quote nods And I intend this fan-fic to continue on, at least for a little while yet. :)

Estelli/Estellin: Thanks :) More information about Laucki and his history with the elves (for I have thought about that, but not elaborated on so far) will be spoken of

SilverRider88: Shhh, don't spoil it just yet. (In short, yes, because they participated in the games where Laucki and the elves attacked, however are they completely aware of the danger they could be in? No... not as yet. All in good time

I THINK that's just about everyone. Apologies if I missed you! PM me if I did! (Unless your review was via PM, then I'll get round to it) Until next time. Yubyub.

Next chapter has changed title to Council and Counsel... to be uploaded when I get round to it. Possibly next week, possibly earlier. Now... back to the maths assignment :(


	17. Council and Counsel

**A/N: **So you know how I have said that some chapters have been 'difficult' to write. If not, I'll say it now. Some chapters (ie. 9/10/14/15) have been difficult for me to literaturise (pretty sure thats not a word, but you get the idea). The last part (1000 words or so) of this chapter feel a bit rushed, and not amazing, so I may come back and edit it, but I shall inform you of such a scenario.

As always, feel free to review with your criticisms/comments. I know this chapter isn't perfect (especially some of the explanations) so let me know what you think, and I shall endeavour to improve it.

Two notes:

There is a part of this chapter which is a direct copy of some of Christopher Paolini's Inheritance. It is used for illustrative purposes only, so please no lawsuits (especially if they're going to be to the tune of $1.05billion)

Also, just a general note regarding page breaks (the black line directly below this): I use them on two occasions - either for a break or POV change. If its a point of view change, I'll generally have an indicator as to whose POV it is in the first sentence or so. Just keep that in mind. :)

* * *

"Let's go Saphira." Eragon muttered quietly as he placed an arm on the warm scales of his partner. She shook slightly in response, her chest shaking as a quake ran down her spine, eager to depart the clearing. The party, if he could even call it that, had begun to disperse, the people of Carvahall gathering round Roran, while the elves had begun to melt into the trees, many of their respects paid.

"Eragon!" A voice shouted as the blue rider stepped up on the outstretched foreleg of his partner.

_The ambassador. _Saphira said as she looked towards the elf, who was dashing towards them from the other side of the clearing, while Lord Fiolr looked on with a snarl.

_He is a fool. _Eragon sighed, referring to Fiolr.

_I can fix that. _Saphira replied, baring her teeth and growling lowly. Eragon smiled at her words, rubbing her neck affectionately.

_As much I would dearly love for you to act as such, I doubt that it would be well recieved by the elven council. Or Arya for that matter._ He cringed at the thought of angering the elven queen further.

_I will speak with her Eragon. While I am here you will never get into trouble you are so renowned for._

Eragon snarled an inarticulate response to her as he turned to Vanir, who had slowed to a fast walk, his serious face telling Eragon all he needed to know about the conversation that was to unfold.

Without pausing, the elven ambassador twisted his hand over his chest and bowed to Eragon as he had done to his queen in the hours past. The black hair was pushed from the elf's face as he straightened.

Eragon smiled and bowed to the man, his sword brushing his leg as bent.

"Vanir-vodhr, it is good to see you alive and safe." Eragon said in the ancient tongue, to the elf's slight surprise.

"As you, Kingkiller. There would be little hope for the world if you were to pass into the void." to which Eragon laughed gently, grasping the ambassador's arm.

"The world would not stop being round for the want of one life Vanir. But take comfort, for I do not plan to pass this life in the coming days."

"And after that?" Vanir said, looking at Eragon intently, his black hair flicking in front of his face, eyes cast into the shadows of remorse.

"After that Vanir? After that only the future will tell. Saphira once told me that we should live in the present, remember the past, and fear not the future, for it doesn't exist and never shall. There is only now." Eragon said, glancing to Saphira, who was looking down at him.

_And I was right, was I not? _She grinned smugly through their bond

_Are you ever wrong, Saphira? _

"You are indeed blessed then, to be bonded to such a wise beast." Vanir said, twisting his arm over his heart and bowing to Saphira, who lowered her snout and rested her nose against the ambassadors head.

_Take comfort Vanir-white-blade. We will not allow Laucki-traitor-egg-breaker to escape; he will mourn the day he troubled Alagaesia._

"Thank you, Bjartskular, your words warm my heart. Unfortunately, it is not for pleasantries that I sought you." Vanir said, his face hardening. Eragon nodded for the man to continue, reaching to Saphira's saddlebags to retrieve the canteen of faelnirv, the revitalizing liquor that the races cherished so dearly.

Decanting the bottle, Eragon allowed a drop of the fiery liquid to sear his throat, electrifying his nerves, his irises contracting as energy surged through him. Vanir shook his head when Eragon offered him the bottle.

"No thank you, I can't abide the taste. I'm not entirely sure as to how it can be consumed without spontaneously combusting." Vanir said, grimacing slightly at the fumes wafting from the lip of the drink.

Eragon stoppered the bottle, putting it back into the saddlebags, keeping himself between the alcohol and Saphira's snout, which followed the scent, her eyes greedily eyeing the flask. "Aye, it is... potent. However I was awake most of the night, and faelnirv is a simple way to restore energy to aching bones."

The elf raised a slim brow, the corners of his mouth rising slightly as he playfully asked,

"Awake with mine queen?"

Eragon glowered at the rumbling laugh that escaped Saphira's jaw, her amusement at the ambassador's perceptiveness was palpable. His ears burning as if the faelnirv had dripped on them and not his tongue, he straightened to his full height and set his face to the mask that was so familiar. "Vanir, what the Queen of the elves and the Leader of the Riders do together is private. You would do well to remember it." Despite his best efforts, Eragon knew the statement came off as lighthearted, which was helped by his dragon behind him, who's scales were rippling with joy as she chuckled to herself.

Vanir bowed slowly, although Eragon scowled at the smirk that would not be wiped from the dignitary's face. "Didn't you say you were here for more than pleasantries?" Eragon said plainly, finding grim satisfaction at the sobering effect his point had on Vanir.

"Yes. I imagine you have heard much about Laucki, and the vast elven army he commands."

Eragon nodded slowly in the affirmative, frowning at the thought of the army of superior warriors and spell casters. He still had to decide how to deal with the opposing forces.

"Your cousin and I had an unfortunate meeting with a small group of elves on our way to Carvahall. The elves are garbed in a dull ebony mail, rendering them dark as night and nigh on invisible to even the elven eye. Many did not seem to support the cause they fought for, as if bound by words of power. I did not realise that until long after the battle."

_They are as bound as the eldunari once were._ Saphira said softly in his mind.

_Aye, but the eldunari did not have arms to wield swords. _Eragon said with a grimace. Thousands of elves would die under Laucki's terrible reign, and there was little they could do to prevent it.

"Despite their superior numbers, they were unable to overwhelm my defenses, as if their leaders were stretched thin controlling the will of the alfakyn loyal to the queen. If you can separate the reluctant warriors from the group, you might stand a chance."

Eragon nodded gratefully to Vanir. "Thank you Vanir-vodhr, that is an excellent report. May I suggest you repeat yourself, as well as including anything else you decipher, to the council of leaders that approach. Murtagh, Nasuada, Orik and the new Urgal tribe-spokesmen will be here within a few days."

"I will. Thank you Shadeslayer. I must now depart for Tialdari Hall. The queen wishes for a a report on the events of Alagaesia and my reactions to each of them. She specifically said for it to be comprehensive, and not missing anything."

"I have no doub." Eragon replied drily, dismissing the ambassador, who turned and ran lithely towards Tialdari Hall.

_For such a long lived race, they do not hesitate to move with great haste _Saphira noted, as Eragon swung a leg over her ivory spine, settling into the leather saddle that had served them for many years. Running a hand over his tapered ears he pondered her observation.

_Aye. We are at war, which is not something the elves wish to linger on._

A familiar mind touched Eragon's briefly, a subtle presence which he identified as friendly, but not intrusive. Lowering his barriers, the rider's brown eyes unfocussed as the steady beat of Saphira's wings thrummed through him. Eragon extended his mind to encompass the one who had contacted him. Godok's voice echoed as if from afar, the gruff dwarf straining to maintain the mental link, such was the distance. _Ebrithil, we are assembled where you instructed. Will you be long in commencing our training?_

_We fly now my apprentice._ _You have done well to maintain this connection over such a distance. _Eragon said, assuming that his former apprentices had asked the dwarf to commune with him. Strength of mind and will would be important for the coming battle.

_Thank you master, we await your presence._

* * *

Stretching his arms out, allowing his hand to brush the cool clouds that they soared among, Eragon smiled at the joy of flight; Saphira's exuberance at the feeling colouring his emotions. She would lose all hope if she could not soar amongst the clouds, her rider with her. And likewise he would despair at her loss.

_Eragon? _The sapphire dragon asked quietly, her azure wings glistening from the moist clouds.

_Yes, my beautiful partner? What troubles you? _Saphira had closed off part of her mind to him, her thoughts unreadable, except her joy at being with him.

_Do you love me Eragon?_

_Saphira, must you ask that? Of course, I would be nothing without you._ Eragon replied, slightly hurt she felt the need to ask.

_If you love me, would you do anything to spare me harm or death?_

_Saphira! What is this madness? Why do you ask such foolish questions, of course I would do all in my power to spare you harm! Your pain is my pain, your death will be mine also._ Eragon shouted in their joined mind, confused at the turn in conversation. At his words, the fire that was Saphira's mind flared with satisfaction and her barriers began to lower.

_Would you therefore say, that you feel it is your... duty to protect me from harm if you are able?_

Eragon paused before responding. Saphira could provide for herself and fight with strength that he could not match. But yes, he felt responsible for keeping her out of harm, and told her as such.

_Thank you little one._

Eragon baulked slightly as her mind opened up to his once more. _Thank you for what Saphira? What was that all about?_

_I shall not say, you will learn in time. But I know now what must be said._

The auburn haired rider slumped into the saddle, allowing himself to relax and decipher the riddle his dragon had given.

_Do not spend too long contemplating Eragon, I see our apprentices below, and you must have a clear mind for the discussions today and tomorrow. Why I said what I did will reveal itself in time. _Saphira said sharply, twisting till she flew on an angle, allowing Eragon to see the four riders below them, looking from the Crags into the valley below.

_That's fairly hypocritical Saphira, given your actions the last time we trained at the Stone of Broken Eggs. _

The Sapphire dragonness snorted. _Aye, but I did not have a mate those years ago._

_Just be careful when we get there._

* * *

"Selender, the ground is covered in gems! Look at them all!" Ismira cried excited as she and her regal dragonness swooped over the stony ground as Eragon and Saphira landed lightly.

_Those are no gemstones little one. _Selender said quietly, fear and sorrow seeping through their bond. Realisation dawned on Ismira and her eyes widened at the thought of all the broken eggs.

_It is not known as the Stone of Broken Eggs for no reason. _Selender said, her tail flicking back and forth as she landed, agitated at their location. The air smelt of fear and destruction, if such a thing had a distinctive smell.

Ismira tentatively dismounted, landing awkwardly so as to avoid stepping on the broken shell fragments.

_They will not harm you little one._

_That doesn't make me feel any better about crushing them further. _Ismira replied heatedly as she tiptoed towards Eragon, Dazhgra and the dwarves acting similarly.

"You have, no doubt, realised where we stand at this very moment. This is the sight upon which elven warriors stole into the lair of the unborn dragons, and murdered each and every dragon and egg that resided here. It was a night of unprecedented bloodshed, and life has not flourished here in the thousands of years since the slaughter."

Ismira shivered violently at the words, despite the warm glow of the sun. Godok had put a hand over his mouth, in revulsion, while Verdra and Dazhgra had swayed and leant on their dragons for support at the idea of such bloodshed.

"It is good you find such acts repulsive, and natural, given your bonding. However the lives lost in this place are nought to the multitude that have died in wars over the millennia. Each life that is lost is a story that enters the void, and a family that mourns the passing of their father, mother, son, daughter, brother sister, partner, mate, friend. Death impacts everyone, whether they realise it or not. War creates nothing but sadness."

Eragon stepped back, his face sadder than Ismira had ever seen it. She noticed a glistening river run down the lead rider's face before he wiped it away with a thumb and looked at his dragon.

_Remember this, littlest ones. The elves and the riders once almost destroyed each other because of the hate between them. Laucki, as well as the elves of the era, almost brought the downfall of the dragons AND the elves. If we fail, life in Alagaesia will not find peace again, and the races will be diminished with the fall of the dragon riders. _Saphira spoke loudly and with care, ensuring each dragon and rider caught her gaze as she spoke.

"Saphira is right. You will revel in the killing and adrenaline of war, but do not let it consume you. There are alternatives to battle, and we must be the forebearers of those alternatives. Never forget those you lose in battle, nor those lost because of you, lest the darkness consume you as it consumes many."

The ground shifted under Ismira's feet slightly as she looked at Eragon, her eyes captivated by the visage of the lead rider. And for the barest instance, Eragon disappeared along with Saphira, a white dragon and elf of impossible power standing in their stead. As the six apprentices gaped at the dragon and rider before them a voice of immeasurable wisdom spoke in their minds.

_Young ones, Eragon Shadeslayer speaks the truth. Heed his words with care. You will lose all those you hold dear in the war if you cannot prevail over Laucki and his army. Remember all you have been taught, for it has been spoken by those who are good in the world. Never forget, you are riders, the keepers of peace, not power._

Ismira swallowed and spoke timidly to the white rider, who appeared barely older than her master. "Who are you?"

Beside her, the dragons grumbled in their throats in agreeance.

_Ismira Stronghammer. We are the beginning of your legacy, the root of your power. We have been known by many names, but you should remember us as Eragon Shurtugal and Bid'daum Peace-wings._

* * *

Dazhgra raised his head as the white light faded, along with the vision of Eragon and Bid'daum. The great white dragon appeared to shrink, returning to the royal blue of Saphira that he was so used to. Eragon grew slightly, his face becoming less angular and more rugged, eyes fading to a sharp brown.

As the features stabilised to those of their masters, Eragon blinked rapidly, Saphira shaking her head and snorting. Dazhgra stood up, gently brushing fragments of egg off his pants. Eragon switched his gaze between the four rising riders, Saphira huffing at each of the dragons.

_They suspect something. _Morrkan muttered, the cool voice flowing through his mind as water over rocks.

_Firesword and Firetongueare not leaders of the clan for being weak. Would you suspect an ambush if your hatchlings were suddenly bowing to you?_

As he looked into the piercing gaze of Eragon, Dazghra kept his face neutral, as if bowing were an action undertaken by the most sane of people. For good measure he raised a thick eyebrow at Eragon, tilting his head to the side, as if questioning the shadeslayer's curiosity.

In response, the auburn haired rider raised both his eyebrows, and asked the question that could not be avoided. "What are you doing? There is no need for formalities as such."

Dazhgra flicked his gaze to Verdra, seeking the Ismira and Godok with his mind. They met together and frantically discussed what to say, all while maintaining a blank face. Verdra cast a wall around the group, enough to stop Eragon pursuing their conscious thought.

Even conversing at the speed of thought, Dazhgra paused slightly before responding to Eragon, who's eyes had lazily washed over the motionless dwarves and human, their riders shuffling behind them.

"I apologise Ebrithil, it was unnecessary. We just wished to pay our respects to the man who has taught us everything and leads us to our destiny."

Verdra nodded in agreeance, sending a mental nudge to Godok, who smiled in affirmation of Dazhgra's words. Ismira nodded excitedly, a bit too eager for Dazhgra, but she was young.

"Very well. There was little else I wished to teach you this day. Murtagh and the remainder of dignitaries will arrive in a few hours. The queen has given us permission to train until the council commences, and therefore you may attend the arrival of my brother, the dwarven king, and urgal representative if you wish. Until their arrival, you may spend the time where you wish, where the wind carries you. But I request that you meditate on what I have said this day, and what approaches."

Verdra nodded next to Dazhgra, stealing a subtle glance at him. "We have been given much to think about Ebrithil." the dwarf said fluently in the ancient language.

Once more, Eragon raised his slim brows and nodded, muttering something incomprehensible to Saphira before leaping up into the saddle and flying back towards the Crags of Tel'nair.

Dazhgra released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding, and laughed nervously at the events that had transpired. twisting his hands over his horns, feeling their rugged tips until he cut his finger. _Why do you do that Morrkan_said with distaste at the blood that dripped from Dazhgra's pierced finger.

_I told you, it is a custom of the Urgralgra, to pierce their hand with their horn. If we bleed then what we have seen is real, and was not conjured by magic or sleep._

_Crude. _Jonkirn said with a snort.

_Says the dragon who can't keep his teeth free from sheep wool. _Dazhgra laughed openly at his dragon, who had huffed, spewing _black_flames from his nostrils.

_THAT _is different.

* * *

Flying low over the treetops of the dense forest, Saphira's claws brushed at the foliage of Du Weldenvarden, her steady beats belying the skill required to keep rider and dragon from crashing into the trees below.

_That was... strange. _Eragon said with a frown, remembering the scene in his mind. One moment he had been instructing his students, and as he had blinked, they all bowed before him, as if he were king. Then Dazhgra had denied any strangeness, all the while obviously talking with the other riders, their blank faces a giveaway of their actions.

_That place is full of magic few understand Eragon. It is not the first time such events have been seen on the Stone of Broken Eggs. If you needed to hear or see what they saw, you would have. _Glaedr spoke, his vast mind touching Eragon's, leaving the rider's head spinning from the contact. Even after a decade of regular contact with the eldunari, he struggled to comprehend the labyrinthian pathways of thought that the dragons communed through.

_Ebrithil, what did they see? _Saphira asked slowly as she wove between the highest of trees, her wings barely clipping the branches around them as Eragon gripped his knees around the saddle in concentration.

_I cannot say, queen of the sky, except that they saw a being of immense power. Whether it was a man from your future, or a vision from the past I do not know._

_A shadow approaches Ebrithil, and I am uncertain as to what path to take. _Eragon stated, suddenly unsure of himself.

_The path to take is the one where you burn a candle against the darkness. Do you remember those Fairth's in Oromis' hut? You must lay eyes on them before the sun is a memory in the land. _Glaedr said with conviction, his deep voice rumbling through their beings as Saphira climbed from the treetops to the Crags above, her wings effortlessly pushing through the air around them.

Clearing the crest of the cliff, Saphira landed lightly, her claws centimeters from the perilous face. _I must hunt little one, I will return shortly._

Eragon nodded and leapt onto the grass, without breaking stride or showing any sign of the height he had jumped from. Turning back to the sapphire dragon, he watched as she arched her neck, tilting back until she was falling backwards over the edge. As she picked up speed, cerulean wings hugged her great chest and she span until upright, flying into the distance with a roar of jubilee. Eragon shook his head before walking towards the hut that had become his home in Ellesmera.

Pushing the door open, his eyes sought the fairth's hanging on the wall, but a new addition to the decorations caught his eye. A large chest sat at the base of his bed, unadorned except for a small hollow in the top. Pushing his curiosity to the back of his mind, Eragon reached for the first of the fairths, unsure of what he was to find.

As he lifted the slate from the wall, a slip of parchment fell between his fingers, and he let go of the fairth, reaching for the paper. Familiar glyphs flowed over the yellowed page, their intricacy and perfection leaving Eragon in little doubt as to who had written the letter.

_Eragon-elda,_

_If you are reading this, then I have passed into the void and am no longer with you. Do not mourn me, for your return to Ellesmera can only mean the dark king has been defeated; the land of Alagaesia free._

_I cannot emphasize how proud I am at your accomplishments. Saphira has spoken of the hardships you endure, of the questioning, the uncertainty. Do not fear your inabilities Eragon; I have no doubt you will free the remaining egg and restore the riders to a glory not seen in centuries._

_I must explain my discretion at turning these three Fairth's over, their contents unseen during our lessons. My fear was that your insatiable curiosity and inexhaustible questions regarding the memories these fairth's show would delay the essential training you rigorously undertook, as no rider has in the millennia our order has stood._

_These three Fairths, all of which I created in one magical night, beg for more questions than they could possibly answer._

_You have my sincerest apologies for hiding them from you. The future is always in motion, so if they have not already come to pass, do not wait the day they do, for until it happens, you cannot understand._

_Once again, Eragon Shadeslayer, Bromsson, you have surpassed all expectations that I could have expressed for you. Your determination to succeed where no others could imagine is unparalleled; and care for those dear to you to a higher level than you care for even yourself. Thank you, Eragon-elda, for restoring my faith in the riders._

_Your friend,_

_Oromis Thrandurin_

_The Cripple Who is Whole_

Eragon shut his eyes and rubbed the persistent hint of a stubble that lined his chin, thinking over Oromis' words. The encouragement could not have come at a more appropriate time, although Eragon suspected the golden rider would have known that when writing his final words.

Folding the paper between his fingers, he placed the letter in his pocket, immortalizing the words in his mind. Trembling digits one more grasped the fairth from which the letter fell, lifting the art from the peg that fixed it to the wall. Flipping his hand, he watched the image reveal itself. Gold, azure and emerald mixed across the slate as the picture took shape.

A golden dragon reared on its hind legs, front two clawing the air while challenging a smaller blue dragon opposite, who's teeth were bared, blue fire dripping from her jaws.

In the foreground two men stood, an ancient elf and a nervous human boy, fire crackling in their palms.

Eragon smiled at the fairth, remembering all the lessons he had undertaken with the senior rider.

_Do not be deceived by presumptions. Look again. _Glaedr's voice drifted through Eragon's link with Saphira and he held the fairth closer to his face, the details continuing to reveal themselves to him as he looked closer at the figures. The dragon was Glaedr, but Eragon realised his mistake. The dragon in the fairth had all four limbs, making Eragon start.

_This was before the rider war? _he asked the golden dragon in surprise.

Saphira interrupted with a low growl, _Eragon did you really confuse that dragon with your partner? I am far more regal than THAT creature. Its scales could never match the deep blue of mine, nor the purity of my spikes._

_My apologies Saphira, a foolish mistake. _Eragon shot back with a smirk, looking at the young boy. Despite Saphira's insistence that the dragon was not his, the human looked remarkably similar to himself. The brown hair, lean build.. even the boy's stance looked like one Eragon fell so comfortably into. Blinking rapidly to refocus on the picture, Eragon's eyes slipped to the dragon once more, the light blue scales now obviously belonging to another dragon than Saphira._ Blue! _He thought furiously, the riders eyes were as blue as the sky above. Realization dawned on him, an he held the fairth at arms length, the picture of his father training with Oromis startling him. Brom would always be a withered old man to him. A strong, wise, powerful old man, a rider nonetheless, but Eragon had never imagined his father as he would have been when Eragon's age. The greying beard and sparkling eyes were too well ingrained in his memory.

_When was this? _Eragon asked quietly in his mind, adjusting to another way to think of his father.

_The event was a week before Morzan's betrayal, however it was not recorded until long after, the same night as the other fairths._ Glaedr explained.

_What was he like? _

_You know that answer, do not pretend this changes who your father was. It merely gives another perspective of the man you knew, of a time you chose to ignore. Nobody is born with the gifts Brom gave the world, even the greatest of us need training. _

Eragon nodded mentally and placed the visage of the past on the low table, his eyes noting all the similarities and differences between his father and self.

_No, these wouldn't have distracted you at all, would they? _Saphira drawled mentally. Noting she was tracking a deer, who was oblivious below the sapphire dragon, Eragon melded his soul with Saphira and roared, startling the deer below them. Chuckling to himself, Eragon withdrew as his partner's annoyance emanated from the forest.

_That's not funny, and you know it. That deer was lovely. Juicy, plump, yet you find it amusing to scare it off. _

_You teased me. _Eragon shot back innocently.

_Enough! _Glaedr spoke with force, his deep voice rocking their minds gently.

Eragon smiled quietly, lifting off the second fairth and turning it, frowning as he considered the illustration. Oromis could not have been alive to scry or remember this place. Their teacher had long passed into the void before the Vault of Souls had been unlocked once more.

_This fairth shows the first of three visions Oromis and I shared on the Crags of Tel'nair before we contacted a young rider underneath Farthern Dur._

Saphira bristled with annoyance. _Why did you not tell us of the location of the eldunari then?_

_Because they could not remember, their memories wiped during the fall. And if they had shown us this fairth, we wouldn't have been able to do anything without the knowledge of the Rock of Kuthian and our true names. _Eragon said, thinking through all he knew about the vault of souls. For the fairth was unmistakably a representation of the vault, lined with eggs and eldunari. Saphira and Eragon knelt before the violet figure of Cuaroc, guardian of the vault, red eyes glowing ominously.

Saphira retreated from the conversation slightly, chastised and embarrassed by her mental outburst.

_Think little of it Brightscales, there are few dragons who can claim to have not made rash mistakes in their time. _Glaedr comforted the sapphire dragonness.

_Thank you Glaedr, for refraining from showing myself and Saphira these images. Oromis was correct when he said we were too curious. I would not have slept until finding out what and where the Vault of Souls was, had I seen this in Ellesmera._

The golden dragon glowed at the thanks, as Eragon turned to the final fairth, Glaedr's words troubling him. Something was not right about what the golden dragon had said, but as his hands absently turned the fairth over, all thought of mystery faded into his subconscious.

_How? _he asked, gaping at the green and blue.

_Oromis and I saw three visions upon the Crags of Tel'nair, this, along with the Vault of Souls, were two of them. We could not explain what we saw with any more proficiency than you could have at the time. They were visions of the future, and would either occur as we saw them, or they would not. It is not often or lightly that visions are gifted to men or women, especially those that show a queen superseded by her daughter, wielding the blade of an arrogant Lord._

_Eragon, what does it show? I cannot see through your eyes while hunting, else I shall be as silent as a kull in battle._ Saphira said distractedly, as she sighted another deer amidst the thick undergrowth of the forest.

_Let me show you. _he replied with a touch of sadness.

* * *

"Kuasta," said Arya, and the tablet curved through the air and landed in her hand.

Eragon opened his mouth, intending to explain or to apologize, but then he thought better of it and said nothing.

Holding up the fairth, Arya stared at it with an intent gaze. Eragon watched her closely, wondering how she would react. A long, tense minute passed.

Then Arya lowered the fairth

* * *

_Oh little one, _said Saphira gently. She ruined the effect with her satisfaction at the limp deer hanging between her jaws.

Eragon smiled at her, laughing lightly, before speaking to Glaedr. _Details are different ebrithil. The fairth is not exactly as I remember that time. The queen's face is softer, my ears flat and rounded. _Looking closer at the fairth, Eragon frowned at the edges of the slate. _The edges are blurry, undefined._

_Eragon, what Oromis and I saw was what we were given. I cannot explain the differences, as the future has always been, and always will be, in motion. That reality was so similar, yet so different to that which we saw, is remarkable. As you can see though, these fairth's could have been your undoing, had you seen them before your time._

Eragon nodded, sitting at the chair and looking over each fairth again, vivid reminders of the past conflicting with the memories he held dear.

_Dwell not on that which has happened, that which you cannot change. It is not your future that lies behind you, but the past. _Oromis voice flowed from Glaedr's memories as Eragon ran his hand over his father's face, imagining the contours that once were. Slowly the golden dragon retreated to the confines of his heart of hearts, leaving Saphira and he to their thoughts.

_What is that chest next to your sleep-nest_ Saphira said, snapping a bone between her teeth.

_I don't know. It was here when I arrived. _Eragon replied cautiously, sensing his dragon's confusion waver.

_It's from the old-one. She said she had a gift for you. _said Saphira, intrigued at the plain chest.

Pushing the chair back, Eragon walked to the foot of his bed and felt the wooden box, his fingers gliding over the surface, feeling for any crevices that might indicate a lid. Despite his elven senses, the box was smooth and unadorned of any indication of what purpose it might serve. _Except for... _Eragon thought quietly, as he ran his fingers round the spherical hole in the centre of the box, the familiarity of the curves drawing his right hand to the pommel of his sword.

Noticing the mirroring feel, he drew Brisingr from its sheath with the sliver of steel against steel, and placed the base of the weapon into the cavity. It fit perfectly. Yet for all he could detect, by sight, feel or magic, Eragon sensed no change in the chest. Frowning at the depth of Rhunon's though, he muttered the word he knew like no other, "Brisingr," preparing to cut off the magic that fueled his sword's flames.

To his shock, the sword shivered, but remained cool and unlit. A line of bright white appeared round the top of the chest, glowing briefly before fading to blackness.

_No being but you could open this gift. Whatever it is, treasure it. _said Saphira pointedly, as Eragon flicked a finger under the lid and lifted slowly, the well oiled hinges barely whispering. Once the lid rested against the bed, Eragon looked in the box, his slanted eyebrows rising at the beauty of Rhunon's gift.

* * *

_Why are you cross with him?_ Firnen asked her suddenly, the only sound that interrupted her thoughts as the queen glided through Ellesmera.

_Because he didn't tell me! _She exclaimed, annoyed that the partner of her mind continued to question her annoyance at Eragon. _He didn't tell me his own home had been burnt to the ground and that a major city of the empire was falling to an army of elves!_

_I rather think the lead rider had other, more important, things on his mind. _Firnen shot back with just a trace of a smile.

_Firnen! I thought he had changed. That I was no longer purely an object for desire. That he actually loved me for who I am, not what he saved._

_Arya, you know that Eragon's feelings for you are much deeper than the lust he once coveted. There was little he could do, and little you could do, about Laucki and Teirm, let alone Carvahall - _

_Which is his own home! _she said crossly, barely concentrating on where she walked. _His own home, burnt to the ground._

_Eragon no longer considers Carvahall his home. You should remember that. Stop being cross at Eragon and yourself! _Firnen demanded to her surprise.

_Myself? _replied Arya, more than slightly confused by her dragon's assumption.

_Yes yourself. You are cross with Eragon for with-holding information, regardless of whether it would be of use to you. But your anger is deeper than that Arya. Finding the truth about yourself, and the major shift in priorities that came with that; it has shaken you. Suddenly, you are no longer compelled to fulfil your duties as queen. And yet, your position requires you to continue as such. You are angry, because you are constantly trying to switch between queen and rider, between duty and freedom, _said Firnen deliberately in the tongue of the elves. Arya pursed her lips and stopped her walk, thinking over his words objectively, judging them as she would judge a dispute between two elves under her command.

Sighing audibly, Arya slumped against the nearest tree, dislodging the needles of pine that clung to its branches. _I am sorry Firnen._

_It is not I that has been hurt by your actions little one. My sorrow is the conflict within you while you remain queen, trapped by the duty you no longer thrive on. Eragon will understand. When has he not?_

Looking up at her dragon's words, Arya started. She stood on the edge of a clearing she knew well, the clearing that held the residence of the lead rider. Far above her, a cry of "Wyrda" tickled her pointed ears as she hesitantly walked to the door, pausing and knocking firmly on the wooden frame.

A muffled voice called back to her, "Come in." She frowned at the noise, hesitantly pushing on the solid door, its rough timbers moving aside under her touch. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a row of fairths into view, leaving the bedchambers in darkness.

"Decided to knock this time?" a disembodied voice floated from the shadows, making Arya turn sharply.

"Who's there?" she said calmly, her hand resting around Ebrithil. Her emerald eyes scanned the shadows, noting all the details the limited light allowed her to see. "Istalri" she muttered, as her palm gripped her sword, prepared for battle. Three candles light up at her voice, banishing the shadows from the room. Beside Eragon's bed, a tall figure in sapphire armor stood motionless.

The man's protection shimmered like fire, as if sapphire flames were licking the metal armor. A close helm of sapphire blue hid the man's face, except for a slit in the visor, where from two deep brown eyes glinted. Arya flicked her gaze over the body of the man, trying to find a seam or weak point to the warrior. Surprise turned to angst as she noted the seamless joints and ease at which the being rolled his shoulders. It was an armor that was unparalleled in refinement and protection. After a pause, the man chuckled lightly,

"Do you not recognise me?"

"Is that you, Eragon?" whispered Arya.

"Aye" the masked man replied, lifting the helm from his head, revealing the comforting features of Eragon Shadeslayer, grinning from ear to ear, auburn hair unkempt and tan eyes sparkling.

* * *

"It was a gift. From Rhunon." Eragon said with a smile as he placed the brightsteel helm on the bed, revelling in how unencumbered he felt. He could move freely, as if he barely wore armor at all, yet he knew the armor would not yield under the strength of any blade.

"Why?" Arya asked, coming to him and feeling the helm, tapping it with a slender finger.

"I think she initially meant for it to be significantly smaller, just a pair of braces. The project just outgrew her until it was too late. Since Saphira and my departure, she has worked on and off at perfecting the armor. She knows how my body moves, from her time forging Brisingr, and so crafted the set to flow with me." Eragon said, still in awe of the armor.

"You must thank her. This gift is invaluable." Arya said absently, walking past Eragon to the fairths lining the wall. Scents of crushed pine needles swam past him, making him lean back slightly, trying to clear his mind.

"Indeed it is a jewel, and will be cared for as one. But to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, this fine noon?" Eragon asked smoothly, curious as to why she would come here. He received a brief smile to his words, the room brightening slightly at the elven queen's flash of happiness before she turned away.

"I fear I have not been myself of late Eragon, especially around the dearest of my companions. There is much... conflict within me."

Eragon was silent, knowing that she would not want his interruption.

"Going through this... change, that you know of; has not been easy during the current climate. War is about to break because of a rogue elven army, and there is little I can do to argue against it or prevent the destruction that has occurred. I am not saying I blame myself for what has happened, but that the responsibility falls to me to arrange a solution.

And then suddenly, wonderfully... " Arya turned and smiled at Eragon, "all this happens, and I no longer feel the desire to lead, to rule. I want to be a rider, without the ties of being queen, yet I must behave for the elven court, lest I be removed from office. You must know how destructive that would be during a war."

Eragon nodded sadly, removing his armor with a muttered word. The blue plates fell back into the chest, Brisingr the only piece of Rhunon's creations remaining on his body.

"It is for this conflict, this confusion within me, that I was harsh with you this morning. You could not have conceivably told me of the danger to Teirm in the time that we had, and so I am sorry for my outburst." said Arya, looking at him, gauging his reaction. Before he could respond, Saphira interjected.

_You are forgiven. _The azure dragoness rumbled in their minds, to which Eragon smiled and nodded firmly.

"Thank you, for telling me, Arya svit-kona. If ever you need a hand, Saphira and I will be here for you." he said, holding his palm out to her. The queen bowed her head and took his outstretched hand in her own.

"You truly are remarkable, Eragon Shadeslayer" said Arya quietly, squeezing his hand and sending a jolt up his arm to his heart. In response to his cocked head, she slipped under his mental barriers and showed him every memory of him that had brought joy to her.

"Only for you," he whispered back, touching his forehead against hers gently.

_Oi!_ Two roars sounded over the forest, causing the riders to look to the window.

_What about us? _Saphira and Firnen roared in unison, making Eragon laugh quietly, guiding Arya to the door, releasing her hand with regret.

_Of course you too Saphira. _smirked Eragon, while Arya said the same to Firnen.

_Better, do not slip again. My tongue is itching for a clean. Murtagh and Nasuada will arrive soon, and they wish to hold the council immediately. We must make haste to meet them before they enter Ellesmera. _Saphira spoke as the riders stepped into the sunshine, shading their eyes against the silhouettes of their dragons.

"Race you to Ellesmera?" Eragon said, glancing at Arya, who merely blinked at him.

"That would be most improper for a queen." she said, deadpan. Eragon shook his head mentally to Saphira, before Firnen interjected as Arya strapped herself to his saddle.

_Inappropriate for a queen, but not for a dragon! _The giant male dragon roared, spraying Saphira with fire that passed harmlessly around them, as Shadeslayer and Brightscales scowled, aiming for the treeline.

* * *

Murtagh rolled his eyes across from Eragon, who smirked at his brother's impatience. The red rider had been fidgeting at the deliberations and bureaucracy of the elven council. Decisions were not thought out quickly, and the evasiveness of some of the lords was proving a block to progress. A number of times Roran or Murtagh had stood up in disgust and shouted down, and invariably insulted the elves with their brash and pointed comments.

In contrast, Eragon had chosen to sit back and listen to the arguments that flowed between Orik, Arya, Nasuada and the urgal representative, a young dam by the name of Dalia. He had noticed Vanir's taught face when the urgal woman arrived, and wondered at it. _There is history between those two, _he noted quietly to Saphira, who snorted in response. Regardless of Vanir's curious actions, Dalia had proven herself to be much like Dazhgra and her father before her, gentle and humorous when required, but strong and sensible where arguments became too heated or irrational.

Ismira had sat by her father, quietly listening and questioning Eragon mentally as to why various decisions were made one way or another. Each time he had shrugged at her, as lost in the canyons of elven politics as she was. The other riders had stayed similarly quiet, providing their input only occasionally or when asked. Eragon had stressed that the decisions of the council were to be made with as little input from the riders as possible. They were not rulers, but keepers of the peace and advisors.

A lengthy hour passed before it was finally agreed that Laucki was a threat, at which point Murtagh had cheered, Nasuada had sighed, and Roran had held his face in his hands. Eragon's students had been studiously stone-faced, their faces generically blank. Despite their efforts, the lead rider could see the frustration building in their eyes as the races bickered backwards and forwards over where Laucki would attack next, even though Eragon had told them the elven trickster was following Eragon's own route through Alagaesia. Orik had snarled at the thought, knowing an attack on the dwarven strongholds would be inevitable after Dras-leona and Gil'ead fell to the elven army; assuming Laucki kept to his current methodology.

"Eragon-elda, may I have a word in private, away from prying ears?" A voice spoke quietly next to him, barely above a whisper. Sitting up and turning, he raised his gaze Lord Fiolr, nodded and stood, excusing himself from the current debate regarding where to intercept Laucki's army. Murtagh and Roran were once again disagreeing with various elven and dwarven officials about the best method to defend against the superior speed of the elves.

_It seems that blood runs hot in your family. _Arya noted mentally as Eragon departed with Lord Fiolr.

_And yet people are surprised so many of us are riders of dragons, the hottest of all creatures._ Eragon retorted with a smile.

The elven lord led the way quietly from the council's discussion, Tamerlein swinging from his waist silently. _Be careful. I do not trust him, he smells. _Saphira snarled at Eragon as they got further and further away from the clearing. He reassured her with a nod, stopping as the elven man turned suddenly, his face inscrutable. Without realising, they had travelled deep into Du Weldenvarden, and far from the lights of Ellesmera.

"What is it you wish to speak of, Lord Fiolr? It would not be wise for us to linger here while decisions are made without our presence."

The man paused, a strange glint in his eye. "They will have to survive without our presence, young shadeslayer. There are more important things to be discussed." Something in his words screamed danger at Eragon, but he pushed the notion away, knowing he could overpower the elven lord in a battle of sword or mind.

Spreading his hands, Eragon smiled, although he struggled to maintain the forced face, his insides unsure of the motives of the man across from him. "I'm all ears."

Fiolr paused again, as if contemplating a difficult puzzle. Before the lord could respond, or Eragon question his silence; the patter of light feet drew the auburn haired rider's attention away, turning to the path behind. William surged through the undergrowth, excitedly calling to Eragon and Lord Fiolr, his hair whipped behind him elegantly. A genuine smile broke out on Eragon's face at the young man's exuberance.

"What is it Will? Surely they haven't missed us that much already!" said the rider kindly, wondering as to what the disturbance was.

Will looked behind Eragon to Fiolr, unspoken words passing between them, and William's face creased in confusion. "I thought," he managed, before Eragon felt two sharp pricks in his neck.

Turning sharply, Eragon looked to Fiolr, confusion and anger bubbling in his stomach. _What is it? _Saphira asked, but her voice seemed far away, as if an echo.

"What is wrong, O great rider?" Fiolr spoke, his voice low and menacing. "Struggling to think straight? Your dragon will no longer hear or feel your mind."

Eragon heard the words, but his mind felt sluggish, as if deprived of sleep and energy. Fiolr's voice spun inside his head as he strove to understand the man's meaning. He felt for his sword, but the hilt felt thick and slippery, and he could not grasp it. "Having troubles gripping your sword, Kingkiller? Do not despair, you will not need it where you're going." Fiolr laughed, his entire being radiating confidence and control as Eragon sank to his knees. Unconsciously, he reached for the magic that had been his guide and saviour for the past decade, but it was as if he had never accessed the power before, a thick wall preventing him from using the ancient strength.

"Magic will not save you, young Shadeslayer. Do not fight the drug, you will need your strength when the time comes" smirked Fiolr, as Eragon fell to the ground, barely registering the world around him as it faded to black.

* * *

"What have you done?!" shouted William, his mind racing. Fiolr had instructed him to follow Eragon through Ellesmera, and to bring them back to the council, so they would not lose too much time. But Eragon had collapsed, Fiolr standing over the unconscious rider as if claiming his prize. _I cannot let him get away with this. The council have to know! _William thought desperately as Fiolr looked up, as if surprised to see him there.

"Oh, no need to rush off William, I only did what was needed" he said deceptively calmly, his hands opening wide in a gesture of friendship. Will barely noticed the muttered word "Slytha," but he felt the tax in his strength. He glowered at the elven traitor.

"I have wards against such magic Fiolr. I lived amongst those of magical blood for long enough to learn that wards against basic spells are invaluable. Dathedr-vodhr himself cast these for me on my arrival in Ellesmera."

"So be it." Fiolr spat, stepping forward and chanting quickly. Taking one last look at the incapacitated Eragon, William turned and sprinted from the deceiver, towards the council and elven capital. Fiolr's snarling voice floated with Will as he sprinted through the trees, words of power permeating the land around. Rocks exploded in front of him and he covered his face desperately, feeling the fragments scratch his arms. Fire licked at the soles of his feet, the forest beginning to burn around him, as the forest seemed to disintegrate.

"No!" he shouted to himself, urging his feet to force the ground past him faster. Trunks fell around him, blocking his path, even as shards of rocks pierced his feet. At full sprint, he could not slow and go around each burning trunk or barrier, but leapt and dove under each obstacle, his elven reflexes saving him on numerous occasions.

_I cannot leave them not knowing Eragon's fate. _William thought furiously, his legs growing tired from the speed, his feet blistering even amongst the wounds; his lungs heaving from the heat and smoke. _How can he sustain so much power over such a distance? Surely Fiolr does not have such reserves of energy? _he wondered disconnectedly as he swung into the tree tops, leaping across the canopy and sighting the city ahead. Bounding into the clearing of leaders, he raced to the table, saw the look of alarm on the queen's face, and managed two words before collapsing from exhaustion. "Eragon. Captured."

* * *

**A/N:** The last 1000 words have had slight alterations, nothing majorly plot changing, just cleaning up.

But... Eragon is captured. Gone. Kaput. I probably don't need to tell you whose company he'll be enjoying shortly, but it shall not be fun for our little hero.

One question (which you can answer via PM or review, although if its just answering a question, PM is preferred :D ):

Was Arya's explanation as to her anger reasonable? I know it wasn't super amazing, but I thought it was relatively plausible

**I may come back and edit (read: expand on/improve)** some of the chapter (basically from when Murtagh arrives to when Eragon is captured) to try and give the council more feeling/personality, amongst other things that felt a bit 'weak' in this chapter. I have now got a direction for the next 8 or 9 chapters, which will begin to pan out over the coming weeks/months, with it all planned at least roughly out to Chapter 26. Exciting, and slightly crazy too. One notable character was missing from the council. Who was it, and what were they doing? Also upcoming are some more signs of how powerful Eragon can be (although it won't be Eragon showing these powers, but another character who's having a bigger part. And what happens when you put more than one Stronghammer in a small room together? All this and more, coming soon.

* * *

Also, just wanted to say a few things about myself, which people have asked on occasion... so if you're not interested, the chapter's over. I'll be back soon.

I'm not a writer/author/journalist (anything to do with writing) by trade. I'm a second year engineering student with no formal training in the english language outside of the Australian high school english curriculum. I thoroughly enjoyed the Inheritance Cycle, and after reading a few fanfics, had a few ideas swirling round, which eventually led to the first one and a half chapters, and its kind of gone from there! I've tried really hard to keep it true to canon, while putting my own twist on things, so if you read something and go "hang on that doesn't make sense because in insert IC book, insert character did insert action" then please please please tell me :D

Anyways, I'm done rambling. My goodness, what a ridiculously long chapter.

As always, reviews (even criticisms [especially constructive criticisms]) are greatly appreciated* :D

*Especially if you're a member of - then I can PM you a response :)


	18. Repercussions

**A/N: **What is this? a full chapter with no preview? This unexpected change of tact is a result of a big planning session I had the other day, where I went through and planned the next 8 chapters, the latter few briefly, the next 4 to a reasonable degree. This chapter was a direct product of that. Don't expect the coming chapters to be quite as quick in updating, as they should be longer than this (closer to 5k words I'd imagine.)

But anyway, let me know what you think. I may come and expand on some of the paragraphs here, there's a bit I want to refine, but otherwise, here's chapter 18: Repercussions.

* * *

Arya sighed internally at the irrelevant banter between the leaders of the races. It was so typical for such a gathering to stumble in the quagmire of bureaucracy. It should have been clear that Laucki was a threat, but the elves and races argued bitterly about whether such a threat was a true danger to the people of the land. They had spent an age merely trying to agree on the matter. Roran and Murtagh had been abrupt with the elves, something Arya would to thank them for later. The fair folk were too easily offended, and could use the interaction with more humans. Eragon had remained largely quiet, the rider providing his insight only when asked or prompted. The powerful order of beings from Evarinya Morranr would not influence the politics of Alagaesia where possible.

_You seem more and more like him each day little one. He has truly captured your heart and ensnared you in his claws, has he not? _Firnen puffed behind her.

The queen paused, considering Firnen's words. Certainly, she had changed since being rescued by a young farm boy. His joy at the simple and wondrous notions of life had slowly broken down her barriers, carving away the cold mask that had become her being, no longer a facade. While the elves spoke in riddles, their words twisting around what they truly though, Eragon had shown her honesty and truth, to the point of naivety. She smiled to the partner of her mind at the thought.

_Yes, it would appear he has. They should return shortly. I wonder what Fiolr had to say to Eragon. _said Arya, looking in the direction the two beings had left towards. Stretching her conscious, looking for the auburn haired man, Arya felt only Fiolr and William, as if Eragon was not with them, beyond her reach. She started when a low rumble rolled across the forest and smoke began to rise from the area she had felt the human-hybrid and elven lord's mind.

The low crackle of burning trees tickled her ears, but the cry of the beasts of the forest tore at her as she felt the life of the forest being extinguished as rapidly as the fire spread. Standing abruptly, she silenced the council.

"I fear we have other things to consider that are of immediate importance," she said once they were silent; the taut lines of her face telling them something was wrong. The riders turned to the forest where the smoke billowed, their eyes gauging the speed at which the power was moving, how long they had before it reached the clearing. Murtagh, Godok and Verdra stood as one, advancing towards the tree line, their arms outstretch. As one they wove a powerful spell, the dwarf rocking slightly at the abrupt loss in energy. Murtagh sighed and turned to Arya, a confused look on his face as steam hissed in the undergrowth behind them, limiting their visibility into the forest.

Without warning, William appeared from amongst the trees, his clothing torn and his skin burnt. Rushing to the table, he stopped and spoke two words clearly before falling to the ground.

"Eragon. Captured."

The bellow from Saphira a moment later rendered Arya's query irrelevant. If the sapphire dragon could not feel her rider's presence, it was unlikely he was anything but captured. Saphira began thrashing her tail, splintering dozens of trees, and threatening many of the beings present at the meet. Flames shot into the sky as the roar turned to an angry snarl, the blue head whipping from side to side, eyes wide with panic and anger.

Leg muscles tensed, and velvet wings began unfurling, tail stiffening as Saphira prepared to launch into the sky. Glancing to Murtagh, who had looked at her similarly, they blinked at each other, turning to their dragons.

_Stop her Firnen!_

As one, Thorn and Firnen leapt onto Saphira, knocking her to the side and bowling over more trees as the two dragons strove to subdue the sapphire dragon, who writhed desperately, snapping furiously at the ruby and emerald beasts that pinned her wings to the ground. Just as Saphira began to calm, her wings slumping in defeat, a burst of energy threw Firnen and Thorn high into the air. The proud dragonness spread her wings once more, glaring down the apprentice dragons before leaping in the direction that Eragon had last been felt.

Recovering, Firnen and Thorn dove after her, though they could do little to match the speed of the blue arrow that flew across the top of the forest.

"They will calm her down." Murtagh spoke to the group, though he looked at Arya as he said the words, her nod confirming their suggestion to each dragon.

"We will not know more until William is awake, then we may follow after Eragon, and prevail against whatever force has taken him." Arya said, her face the unreadable mask she wore so often.

Down the table, Roran stood, his fist clenching. "No. We must focus on Laucki. Eragon would not want us rescuing him while allowing innocent civilians to fall to Laucki's slaughter."

Murtagh barked a harsh laugh, kicking his feet onto the table and leaning back sarcastically. "What would you know of Eragon's wishes Stronghammer? You've barely spoken to the lead rider in a decade, yet you claim to know his every whim?"

"Oho! Coming from the rider who tried numerous times to slay him, and slew his adopted father. Yes, your relationship with mine blood brother is one for the bards and mead halls of Tronjheim." Orik said, his eyes glinting with fire. Arya hushed the dwarven king with a glare, to which Roran laughed at her.

"The dwarf is right, she-elf. And you can lay no claim to knowing Eragon. How many times have you rejected his advances? How many years of pain have you caused my cousin needlessly?" the human general snarled, slamming his fist on the table.

Arya gaped for a moment at Roran's words. "Do not speak of that which you do not know, Stronghammer." she said in a deadly voice, laced with threats as she reached for Ebrithil, slim fingers sliding over the cold hilt.

* * *

Dazhgra looked across the table to Verdra and Godok, who were looking to him. It was unthinkable, Eragon Shadeslayer, Kingkiller and Dragon Rider; captured, defeated. Though he was barely capable of registering the news and understanding what it meant, he spread his mind to include the other apprentices, their training as a team coming to the fore. At the speed of thought they analyzed and sought solutions to the problems that faced them, the unasked question as to how they would continue without Eragon remaining unvoiced throughout.

Morrkan murmured quietly to Dazhgra, _We will endure, and must ensure Firesword's legacy is not tarnished by our actions from now._

As one, the four young dragons bellowed into the sky, four streams of flame intersecting above the table from which only argument and mistrust had ensued. Dazhgra frowned at the thin copper pillar of flame originating from Selender. Looking to Ismira - who's face showed pleasant surprise - Dazhgra caught her gaze, holding up one finger, and she nodded, the roar of the dragons fading as he smiled at the young human.

"Enough!" - Verdra spoke, silencing the council. "You do Eragon no service by arguing about who was, is, or will be more important to him."

"The silver rider is right, as are you master Stronghammer. Ebrithil would not wish for us to waste time rescuing him, despite our desires to do so, as he wishes for the Urgralgra to remain peaceful, despite their history of clashing horns. Eragon has always been prepared, and willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. As much as it pains us, we must press on and find Laucki." Dazhgra's eyes shone briefly. "I think we will find Firesword with the traitor." he finished, looking to Godok to continue, the riders continuing to communicate mentally as each spoke.

The dwarf stood without haste, as if considering the words he was to share. The dwarf turned slowly, ensuring each of the members present looked into his eyes, which were as filled with pain and anger as their own. Dazhgra smiled at the dwarf's thoughtfulness, to show the council that they all felt the same way, but could do more than bicker needlessly.

"We can try scrying mine-master and leader Eragon, find out where he is being taken. Amongst the group here, we should have vision of most of Alagaesia, from the depths of Tronjheim to the peaks of the Illirean towers." the stout dwarf spoke clearly, reaching for a map he kept with him at all times. Tapping each of the nations with a gnarled finger Godok continued calmly, "Dwarves, Elves, Humans or Urgals; if Eragon is near any of the beings of this land, we shall find him."

Ismira spoke up, her young voice cracking slightly as each of the senior leaders of Alagaesia looked to her. Dazhgra gave her a mental nudge and smile, encouraging her to stand tall and let them know she felt no fear of their perceived power over her. "ONCE we have found where Uncle Eragon is being held, we can decide what to do. It may even turn out to be most beneficial to attack where they are holding our friend and master, and freeing him then." she looked at Murtagh, who smiled at a memory. "Just like you did, master Murtagh, in Gil'ead to rescue uncle and Arya."

Dazhgra watched as the queen of the elves looked to the queen of the humans, their eyes speaking for them. Each woman turned to the riders and bowed deeply, their respective subjects doing likewise.

"I apologise on behalf of everyone here, elf, human dwarf or urgal." said Nasuada. "You are right that Eragon would not want us to argue over him, regardless of the situation. Thank you for your pacifying words."

Dazhgra nodded in acceptance. A low groan drew the council's attention to the end of the table. The elven advisor Dathedr stood quickly. Dazhgra admired the deceptive speed at which the elf moved, moving as fast as any being without seeming to rush at all. Dathedr knelt beside William, cradling the young man's head gently, who opened his eyes slowly.

"Well done, young one. You have done your nation a great service, but we must know what happened. I am sorry, but I will personally see to your healing once we hear why Eragon is no longer with us." Dathedr spoke lowly and gently.

"It was Fiolr." William spoke, coughing gently, making Dazhgra start. The urgal had not noticed the slimy elf's disappearance in the turmoil. "He tricked me into distracting Eragon. And then" the half-elf paused, tears dwelling in his eyes as he spluttered from the residual smoke that lined his throat.

"Its ok, take your time." Dathedr almost cooed to the boy, who swallowed, wincing at the pain.

"He must have drugged Eragon, because he collapsed, unable to move or use magic. Fiolr mocked him for it, then came for me." Tears had grown to rivers, that washed the ash from William's face as he wept at the loss of a man he barely knew except from legend.

Dazhgra looked at Arya, who nodded to her advisor. The man gently lifted William with magic, his face a mask once more.

"Now that we know the small amount that there is to know, shall we scry my brother?" Murtagh asked, his voice calmer, his feet no longer resting on the table. Arya did not say a word in response, merely retrieving a mirror lodged under the table.

"Draumr Kopa." she muttered, her face paling as the mirror reflected only blackness. She passed the mirror around, reaffirming their knowledge of scrying.

"Scrying can be blocked by a number of simple and complex enchantments. It appear Fiolr or his accomplices have placed such a spell on Eragon. Without knowing the composition of the spell, or their exact location, there is little we can do." the queen said solemnly, shaking her head at Murtagh, who had looked a question at her.

Dazhgra listened curiously, ignoring the black mirror. If it was black, then there was little he could do to fix it.

"It won't work like that." Arya said firmly to Murtagh, who's eyes had lit up at an idea. "Galbatorix was able to use it so effectively because he knew exactly where every spell was cast within Uru'baen. Also, Rhunon, the eldest of our kind, has said Laucki knows of a magic older than the name of the language. We have as little power over him as an ant does over a spider."

Murtagh nodded, glancing to Dazhgra with raised eyebrows. "Something I can do for you, Dazhgra?"

The urgal shook his head, silently wondering what the queen had referred to.

_If ebrithil thought it worth knowing, we would be aware of it. There is magic that is best left secret, even to the most powerful amongst us._ Morrkan reassured him.

_Aye. I fear we must contact Blodgharm-elda with these concerning tidings._

* * *

Blue fur rippled as Blodgharm bowed to Dazhgra and Verdra, twisting his hand over his chest in the sign of fealty. Waving away the formality, Verdra merely nodded in acknowledgement of the gesture.

"You have our thanks Blodgharm, but must save the luxury of such greetings for another day. Eragon has been subdued and taken by Lord Fiolr, who we understand to be operating under Laucki's influence."

Blodgharm blinked, his face unreadable. "These are grave tidings young ones, and most unexpected. How did this come to be?"

Dazhgra relayed all the information that William had shared with them, as well as their own experiences after the revelation. Verdra interrupted occasionally to include details the shaman had forgotten, the pair working together to provide their report.

"Thank you for sharing this news with me. Years ago, Queen Islanzadi bestowed upon me the responsibility of protecting the young rider and his dragon in the war against the dark king. Perhaps it is time that position is reinstated for the war ahead." said Blodgharm, his husky voice low as he contemplated their words.

Dazhgra looked to Verdra briefly, both interpreting what Blodgharm had said the same way, the dwarven rider taking the lead. "All due respect Ebrithil, but a boat will take far too long to reach Alagaesia. It took us a significant amount of time to reach Alagaesia, and all on the wings of dragons."

Blodgharm laughed gently, "Little ones, before you left, Eragon-elda granted the elves access to the eldunari within the tower's vault. With their power, I can move across vast spaces of land as fast as many of the dragons. In his exile, ebrithil conjured many uses of magic previously unknown to the world. The ocean will be no obstacle."

Dazhgra and Verdra bowed, thanking the guard of Evarinya Morranr and wishing him swift travels.

"Ebrithil spoke truly when we were among the souls of the past. We have much to learn still, our journey has barely begun." Dazhgra uttered quietly.

* * *

**A/N: **Hmm, more of an interlude between acts. I felt it was very much the culmination of the training the four apprentice riders had been given. Whereas some 'wiser' and older minds were arguing, they worked as a team to form the conclusions that should have been obvious to the leaders of the races. Also, I thought it high time Blodgharm was informed of the activity in Alagaesia, his loyalty to Eragon dragging him back into the fore.

Chapter 19 has been planned, and the important plot details laid out. However it's imperative I get it right. It WILL NOT be a pleasant chapter, and I want to do it properly. In short, it involves Eragon trapped by Laucki, the latter being a generalised jerk and boasting about it. It won't be gory per se, but it will be painful.

**Reviewer Responses**:

In general to those who ask me to update soon: I'm trying to keep them coming as reasonably as I can. Unfortunately, I do have a life that demands my attention, so sometimes it takes me a bit longer. But I am trying, promise :)

Pinkish Meerkat: Eragon Shadeslayer will not be doing any a** kicking for a while. Other characters, quite possibly. As of writing this response, I've had an idea for some action I might include. And a certain blue friend (but which one :O ) will get in on the action as well.

Moondapple18: Ah, but where is the fun in not having a cliff hanger? This chapter is less of a cliff-hanger.

Silverwing: The blue flash wasn't Brom's grave lighting up in the distance, much too far away, but thats not an unreasonable assumption to make. I'll touch more on the more... intricate.. details of that chapter.

Yes, I'm good at rambling, I'll have to work on that.. hmm.

Nswskater: Glad to hear I've got your attention :) The point I assume got your attention will be fairly critical to the 'end-game'

SkyeBlue: You will have to wait and see. Hopefully your confusion (and anybody else's) about Arya's actions have been resolved to some extent

I can't actually remember who I haven't responded to now, so apologies if I missed you. Its not deliberate! For now, I have to finish my engineering lab report. Until next time, as always, reviews/comments/PMs/communication about how you think its going... always appreciated :D


	19. Laucki

**A/N: **Why hello there, how do you do? A complete chapter is no uploaded and may it be duly noted I'm not entirely happy with it, but it passes, therefore I post.

Ok, but seriously, this chapter was a struggle. Let it be said that it's changed (a bit, at least composition wise) from the preview. So you can't just skip to a place and pick up where you left off.

Also, in news... over 200 REVIEWS? What the? Is there something wrong with you all? Who has time for 200 reviews. A massive thank you to everyone who's reviewed/favourited/followed/read this fanfic. Its been a massive joy for me, and it really gets me little warm feelings when I get an email saying I got a new review. So thanks to YOU! Responses are post-chapter.

I'm not disclaiming anything. If you haven't figured it out by now, go back and read the rest of the fic, there are disclaimers there. But moving on. Full chapter. Enjoy. PM/Review how you liked/disliked it if you so feel the desire.

Oh oh, and POV goes as such for each break:

Saphira

Eragon

Eragon

Eragon

Arya

* * *

_Gone. _

_Gone._

_GONE!_

Darkness. Emptiness.

She was alone, Eragon captured by traitor-two-legs green-sword fool. Sapphire fire painted the sky a deep blue, the atmosphere burning around the most powerful dragonness, ruler of the skies, desperate to find her rider.

Mate-wise-Firnen followed with Strong-red-Thorn, but they could not keep up with Saphira's desperation as she flew amongst the pillars of smoke that led to where partner-soul-Eragon had been.

Flying into one of the columns of smoke, Saphira soared vertically, hidden from her pursuers, wings beating furiously as she gained altitude. Firnen and Thorn flew around the billowing smoke, slowing when they realised Saphira had disappeared.

With a bellow she dived upon her mate, snapping at the emerald wings. Sucumbing to the primeval anger that drove her to find Eragon, she snapped at Firnen, driving the green dragon to the tops of the trees, her stronger limbs clamping onto whatever purchase they could find.

_Leave_! She roared into the face of the green dragon, as she gripped his spine with her claws. They will not stop me saving Eragon she thought furiously as Firnen roared in surprise, twisting and bucking to throw Saphira off. She dug her claws in further and Firnen uttered a sound of pain and understanding as he continued to writhe under her, keeping her focus on him alone. Saphira snarled triumphantly, knowing she could subdue the younger dragon. None could stand against the queen of the skies, and they would all burn until she found her little one. Suddenly, a ruby red mass barrelled into them, tossing Saphira and Firnen to the ground below, Saphira letting go of her prey.

Thorn snarled as he descended after them, red fire barely contained by his white fangs.

_Saphira_. He said carefully. _Be still. Eragon is not dead and you cannot rescue him alone. _

Bellowing loudly at the large male, Saphira snapped her jaws and lashed her tail against the ground, tufts of grass flying into the air at her violence. Leaping at the ruby dragon she snapped at his neck, but Thorn bucked away, blinding Saphira with a torrent of fire. There was little she could do as Thorn landed on her spine, snapping at her snout whichever way she turned, fire continuing to pour from his jaws. As she prepared to throw off her adversary, Firnen pulled her neck down, his claws digging into her scales.

As her neck lowered, Saphira once more felt the ancient-deep-power rise within her and Firnen was thrown through the charred trees around them. As she snapped at his departing form, her tooth caught on Firnen's foreleg, slicing a chunk from the green dragon, who roared in pain.

_ENOUGH_! Thorn roared, invading her mind relentlessly, forcing her to be still. The waves of calm-anger-control from Thorn swept away her desires, leaving her mind sorrowful at her loss. She keened desperately, her wails resonating around them.

_I failed him. I failed to protect my little one_!

Firnen rose from his position nearby, limping slightly, his back oozing a treacle of blood and pus from Saphira's attack. Nevertheless he approached the sapphire dragonness, his tail low and yellow eyes filled with compassion. She watched him stiffly, her tail twitching at every limp that Firnen took towards her. His green head snaked under her neck, lifting her face to look at Thorn while he rubbed gently against her.

_What would Eragon-elda do Saphira_? Thorn said gently, fire retreating from his snout. _The lead rider does not rush into situations without thought, and neither should the lead dragon._

_Except when it comes to MY little one_, Firnen said lightly, nudging the base of Saphira's jaw with his snout. _Then he does rush into it._

Saphira opened her mouth abruptly, bringing her jaw down on Firnen's head, although she could not help the snort that escaped her snout.

_Come, and the two legs may have a plan to save the shurtugal._ Thorn said, looking at Firnen sharply before turning and flying back towards Ellesmera. Firnen moved away from Saphira slowly and sadly, looking at her as his hind legs tensed.

_Arya and I will not let you go alone_. He said simply, taking off after Thorn.

Saphira turned once more to the horizon above the trees. She could smell her rider, the scent she could not forget; and wondered where he had gone, knowing she could go after him. A low moan escaped her unbidden as she turned from her rider and flew after the two males.

* * *

"He will come. Or the world will fall"

Angular ears flicked at the voice, the first sounds he could remember since... Fiolr! Eragon's brown eyes snapped open at the realisation. A twist of his wrists confirmed that he was still a prisoner of whatever group had use of him.

Angling his head round, Eragon struggled to see who had spoken in the darkness. They were out on the plains; the stars their only source of light. Laying his head back on the rough ground he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Using just his fingers, he ran his hands over the cold metal that bound his hands, looking for any indication of a lock that he could exploit. He was at the point of abandoning the idea when his index caught on an indiscernibly small hole. Smiling and opening his eyes, Eragon looked at the cuffs holding his hands. Outright breaking the locks could have alerted his captors to his alertness, such was the nature of breaking metal. But unlocking the binds from inside would be both silent and nigh on imperceptible.

Looking around one last time and failing to see any beings in the shadows, Eragon sent a tendril of thought to the cuffs enclosed around his hands. As the probe left his conscious, Eragon screamed, jerking his auburn hair involuntarily as fire and ice raced through his back. Immediately he retreated into the protection of his mind, to which the pain ceased, leaving his back burning with a dull ache.

"So, you're awake?" a new voice spoke from the darkness. Eragon was silent, his back beginning to recover from the searing pain. A sudden knock to the head ensured he remained silent, his vision fading to the darkness only prevalent in the realm of the unconscious.

* * *

Darkness greeted Eragon as his brown eyes flickered open, brown eyes contemplating the shadows above him and the situation he found himself in. A dull ache in his back made him shiver at the memory of the pain that had seared his spine. Sitting up and reaching round under his shirt, the lead rider cautiously felt for the centre of the pain. Fingers hardened from labour and war glided over his smooth skin, his back straightening at their cold touch. Eragon sighed with relief. He was not sure he could overcome another scarring back injury to the likes of which Durza had maimed him.

As he thought of the shade that had captured him a decade ago, Eragon looked around the cell that he was trapped in. _I'm certainly not in Gil'ead. Or Dras Leona,_ he thought to himself in relief. The smell of the ocean meant he was somewhere near the coast, the persistant drops of water falling from the stone roof suggested he was below ground. A singular window set high on the wall provided the minimal light that permeated the room, although it was too high for Eragon to hope to see out.

"Where am I?" he muttered, standing up and twisting around, irises contracting in the limited light.

"That is not information you need to know. Nor will it benefit your situation or race if I told you." A disembodied voice sounded from the shadows, its flowing voice spoke smoothly, the undertones of music laced into the vowels. Eragon stopped in his turn, sensing the voice was coming from behind him. Composing a spell to light the room and blind his visitor, Eragon uttered the ancient words, his mind crashing into the stream of magic that hid behind once impenetrable walls. Breaching the flow of magic, Eragon's back flared into pain, as if Zar'roc were piercing his skin once more. Screaming, Eragon fell to the floor, writhing in the relentless fire and ice that simultaneously burnt and froze the muscles lining his spine. As the torture began to fade, Eragon blinked his eyes open, spitting out the mould that his mouth had clamped around in his agony.

"Pain. It is the driving force of the human race. Quite dissimilar to the alfakyn, who thrive on their longevity and the considerably pain-free existence granted by magic and their bond with the dragons. Would you not agree, young shadeslayer?"

Eragon pushed himself off the wet floor with his hands, and squinted into the shadows once more. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I will tell you soon enough, shurtugal, although I have little doubt you could guess my identity." Carefully regulated tones paused slightly, the music of the voice hanging in the air as Eragon resolutely closed his mouth, forming a hard line.

"No? Stubbornness is a trait exemplified by both races, although the elves tend to follow through with their defiance more thoroughly than the human race... but I digress. As I said, pain, through whatever medium it may come, affect the fair folks and the people of your birth very differently. Subjugate an elf to inconsolable pain, break them and torture their body and minds until they can take no more, and the result you are left with is a shell. The shell of a being, a much lesser form of their previous self. It's a rather fascinating process, watching the sudden transformation."

Eragon stared into the darkness, rage bubbling at the thought of subjecting any creature to such unnatural force. He had seen how such beastly treatment had effected Arya, both physically and mentally. It was only after months of his constant presence that she had begun to open up to him again.

As if reading his thoughts, the unidentifiable voice drawled. "Yes... you have seen the symptoms, the shade Durza pushed Arya Drottning to the edge, but he did not, and could not break her. His methods were... less precise than my own. Additionally, humans are much more interesting to break. Force a human to endure an unendurable pain, and they will turn and fight; much unlike the elves. However, and this is what is curious, a human will not turn their anger to those that caused their pain, rather they lash out at the ones who care for them. Take Galbatorix for example. An arrogant rider travels into the depths of the Spine, and loses his closest friend and his dragon in one fell swoop. Yet the young man's anger led him to destroy the council and order that cared most for him. Can you explain it?"

Eragon spat in the direction of the voice, his anger palpable as his fingers clenched, nails digging into his palm. "You're wrong. Galbatorix slaughtered the Urgals that killed Jarnunvosk before he ever went after the riders."

"It is a moot point boy. The destruction wrought upon the riders was far greater than that on the urgralra. And thanks to your hand, the king is beyond my grasp. Instead, Eragon Bromsson, which trait is prevalent in your blood. Will you break and shatter like the elves, who have grown weak, or will you become that which you killed so famously in the throne room of Urubaen?" The music voice hardened to iron bars of sound that assaulted Eragon's ears, making him wince even as he growled his response.

"Neither. I'll choose the third option: the response of a dragon: kill the beast that causes the pain."

* * *

A deadly silence filled the room, broken only by the steady drip of moisture on the stone floor. Eragon smiled into the darkness, ignoring the flutter of fear in his heart. Pale orbs appeared in the shadows, milky spheres that seemed to absorb all the light around them.

"And if the source of your torment is the very magic that you riders so desperately covet? What then will you choose?" all hint of joy or peace extinguished in the voice, the grey orbs widening slightly in the gloom.

Eragon laughed with a confidence that was rapidly fading. "And how would you do as you suggest?

A withered palm appeared below the grey orbs, which flickered briefly as the aging hand escaped the shadows. Long fingers wrinkled with age kneaded a black lump, which quickly disintegrated to a fine powder.

"Of all the weapons created during Du Fyrn Skulblaka, these grains were feared the most among elves and dragons alike. For it would cripple dragons in the most agonizing and debilitating way. Once injected into the blood stream of a being, the seeds migrate to the point the host has experienced the most suffering. Then they lie dormant." the voice spoke slowly, savoring each word. Eragon listened in horror at the slow realization of the severity of his situation. The slender hand opposite him continued to work the dark mass until the grains were no larger than sand on a beach. Fingers spread, and the powder seeped through to the floor, where they melded with the shadows, indistinguishable against the black stone.

"The victim, may never notice the parasites within them. Unless they use magic of any form. Telepathic powers, flying, breathing fire and spells all wake the power of these minions of mine. Even if another touches their mind, or attempts to scry those infused with these. At the flow of magic - the extension of one's mind - they attack their host, causing... well, I hardly need to explain, do I?" A row of cream teeth blinked into view below the grey orbs; eyes, Eragon realised absently, his jaw hanging loosely as he considered the horror the being spoke of.

"It's beautiful really. You can still remember the words, the techniques, all the spells. But as soon as your mind stretches beyond itself, or is joined with another, your only thought will be pain. When you touch magic, you will feel inconsolable burning and subconsciously will dispell the power into your surroundings, dissipating into the nether."

"Who are you?" The lead rider spoke, his voice quavering slightly as his heart threatened to escape his chest. He could have guessed, but he didn't trust his voice beyond three words.

The musical drawl crept back into the speakers voice, "My my, the riders have grown weaker than even I thought possible, if they can no longer identify their enemies." A tall elf stepped from the shadows, garbed entirely in black cloth. Eragon stared at the man, who seemed aged beyond even Rhunon, dark lines carving the angular face. White hair had receded to the centre of the ancient scalp, pointed ears bordering the sides of his head. As he stepped forward, the orbs blinked once, irises of silver materializing from the clouds.

"I am Eragon's Bane, brother to the traitor Rhunon, true heir to the knotted throne; Laucki, king of the elves." the man spoke powerfully, the strength in his voice contrasting with his elderly appearance.

Unable to stop himself, Eragon blurted out with a smirk. "How's all that going? I'm still here - alive. The knotted throne is taken."

A mind brushed against Eragon's conscious. At once, bites lacerated his back from the inside, causing him to spasm on the floor, writhing at the pain. The voice spoke in his head, words etching into his mind as fire and ice etched their existence equally.

"I am Eragon's bane, both past and present. Arya Drottning will fall before me, whether on her knees or to my sword. That is her choice alone. When we return, you and I shall discuss why you're here."

Laucki's mind retreated with his physical presence, leaving Eragon curled on all fours, shaking at the throbbing of his back, retching at the racks of residual pain that threw his spine into another spasm.

* * *

Saphira's rest was chaotic and intermittent. The powerful dragon had not slept in the two weeks since Eragon's capture. Arya watched the unsteady rise and fall of the azure chest, Saphira stirring every so often, a growl or moan released from the depths of the dragon.

They had been able to track Fiolr and Eragon's tracks to the edge of Du Weldenvarden, the trees and birds spoke readily of the passing of the rider. Once the trees ceased half a day's march from Ceunon, the tracks had disappeared entirely, both magical, physical and natural. It was as if Eragon had disappeared, and they had returned to Ellesmera disheartened and alone.

_There was nothing more you could have done_. Firnen spoke quietly in her mind, his head resting on his forelegs as he watched the queen of elves and the queen of the skies. Arya nodded in understanding, though her heart longed to do something more to find Eragon.

Scrying had been unsuccessful, despite the efforts of the riders, who regularly sought to dream-stare their leader. Rhunon had been unable to give any ideas as to where Fiolr or Laucki would be hiding, despite the pleas of the queen. She had been unusually harsh with Arya, turning her friend and queen away from the doorstep and forge.

"You have the concerns of a nation to consider Drottning, not the desires of a rider's heart. Eragon Shadeslayer will not die by mine brother's hand, that I know." the smith had said, words grating over stone as they tore at Arya's heart, the truth of the words tarnishing her pride. A week had passed before Arya had spoken to any of the elven lords regarding the situation, her efforts focused on finding Eragon with the riders.

_The throne may not wait for this conflict to pass before you leave_. Firnen said quietly, his deep voice penetrating her thoughts. _Perhaps the present is the best time to look to the future. The elves are capable of finding a being to occupy the knotted throne, you know this. _

Arya shook her head. "It would be a political nightmare, leaving the elves disorganised and separate at a time they must be united against Laucki -" the queen stopped as Saphira's breathing stopped, her tail growing rigid. Arya frowned slightly, her eyebrows narrowing. "What's she doing?"

As the words left her mouth, Saphira's neck bolted upright, her nose sniffing the air, eyes wild as they looked beyond the trees of Ellesmera.

_I can feel him_. Saphira said emphatically. Arya stretched her mind out for the familiar presence, her consciousness expanding as she cast out probes in the direction Saphira was looking. Passing over the minute life forms scattering the forest floor, she almost missed the weak presence that she could feel in the distance.

_Where is he? I can't touch his mind. It's as if his being has been projected from afar, for I can neither contact him nor discern his location._ Arya said to Saphira, who looked at the elven queen sharply.

_Magic. This is traitor-evil-Laucki's doing. He wishes to taunt-prod us_. Saphira said venomously. Arya felt the anger radiating from the dragonness' mind, a physical assault that took her by surprise in its pure ferocity.

"Perhaps we can scry him now." A sharp voice said from behind them. Arya half turned to see Murtagh jog into the clearing, Nasuada by her side. Fire swept the sky as Thorn and the younger riders flew over the tops of the forest. Murtagh and the red dragon had taken over the training of the youngest riders together with the recent graduates. It had served as a good distraction from their concern for Eragon.

"You felt him too?" she asked Dazhgra, who nodded in response, pulling a small mirror from Jonkirn's saddle bags.

"Aye. Laucki's doing no doubt, but perhaps we can now find where my brother is." Murtagh said, muttering a complex phrase in the ancient language. The small mirror grew in size until all the riders and dragons present could see its contents.

"Draumr Kopa." Arya muttered, thinking of the man she loved.

The group gasped collectively as the mirror swirled into white clouds unlike the darkness that had thwarted them for weeks. Slowly, Eragon came into view, lying on what appeared to be a flat floor, his body curled into a small ball, legs against his chest.

Saphira roared, her tail thrashing the ground once more. Ismira jumped in alarm, while Arya and Murtagh looked to their dragons, silent words preparing them to calm the dragonness.

Dazhgra snarled, drawing their attention back to the mirror as they saw Eragon writhing on the floor, screaming silently. Arya imbued the spell with the ancient words to hear as well as see, and the group heard Eragon's cry as if he were next to them.

"NO! Leave me! ARGHGHH! It BURNS! Arya, Saphira! Go! You must GO!" the blue rider roared, arching his back in pain.

_Where is he_! Saphria roared, snarling as she watched her rider's prone form tremble in pain; injured where she could not reach. Arya released the magic binding sound, a sob choking her momentarily, before she turned away from the mirror, unable to watch willingly. Taking a deep breath she paused before answering.

"He is no place I have seen, which eliminates much of Alagaesia, else we would see his prison." Arya said carefully, sending her empathy and compassion to Saphira as she spoke out loud.

Murtagh muttered another indiscernible phrase in the ancient language; the mist swirling again before settling. However the scene remained the same. "He is not anywhere I know of either." the rider spat.

From Saphira's bag, Glaedr poured his memories into the spell, but the stubborn ambiguity of the visage remained. _A trick devised by Laucki no doubt. Where-ever Eragon is being held, he will know none can locate him._

"Ah, young fools. That's because none of you ever spend time doing interesting things." A bouncy voice made them all turn and jump at the new voice. Curly hair bounced along with the voice as Angela and Solembum stood, the former tutting at the six riders and eight dragons, barely fazed by the intimidating power of the group before her.

* * *

**A/N**: Hmm, so not too many changes/additions from the preview. I had been planning to have different parts in this chapter and not include Saphira/Arya POVs, but the chronology didn't sit right with me.

So Laucki will be getting some serious screen time next chapter as well. And wouldn't you all like to know where/what Angela has been doing. When was the last time we saw her anyways?

Alrighty, so I should probably respond to ALL the reviewers of this chapter I've had so far, but there's just too many. First of all thank you everyone, I really appreciate your comments/feedback. If I miss your review, its not because I don't love you, but to save space. I'll be reflecting/answering critiques here, but all praise is noted and muchly appreciated.

Saphira Nograd: There we go :)

Guest: Hom0 (FF will block it otherwise) sapiens has been changed. Good pick up, hadn't thought about that. Hmmm, Eragon dying... interesting idea. Not likely. Pain? Suffering? Torture? Sure. Dying? Not likely

NANGA: Eragon's true name is up for review as to whether I change it. I'll make it clear whether it changes or not

Robinmaesdg: A little. At least for another few chapters. And for those of you saying "But you're category is Romance!"... Romance will feature heavily (AxE at least) following Eragon's rescue (assuming he is rescued :O ). I might have some other character's fluff soon though.

Guest: Urgh, rookie mistake. Thanks for the pick up. Should be fixed now.

I am sorry for misleading you all (I think about half the chapter is A/N) but I feel I should respond to those who are supporting/encouraging/challenging me to be better, which I do try to be when I can. Until next time, a few questions for thought:

Which male characters are missing from this chapter? There are two notable ones who should (in theory) be in Ellesmera. Note: The answers are not Vanir and William (please do not guess in reviews either, if you wish to guess and have it ruined, PM me)

What happens when you put two stronghammers in a small room together planning?

Chapter 23: Deploy (notice how I haven't labelled chapters 20-22? That's kinda deliberate now

Chapter 24: A wolf in sheep's cloth (someone (actually, three someone's) are going to have to do something very hard in here. Wouldn't you like to know what)

Ok, I'm done. Should probs begin on the next chapter... Hmm


	20. Heart of Darkness

**A/N:** Ok, I'm sorry it took so long. Life has been nuttish lately, so writing has kind of taken a back seat on the scenic route that is my life. I'm not on 'holidays' (study break) so have a bit more time to do things.

There are a few (again minor) changes to this chapter from the preview, but a couple of people didn't like one or two things that happened (which made the story canonically unfeasible).

So... Chapter 20: Heart of Darkness.

* * *

Five notches scarred the damp walls of Eragon's prison before Laucki returned. The days had passed by slowly, pain wracking his back periodically. Often as the light from high in his cell began to fade to black, another bout would torment him until the light was fully extinguished. He could not tell if the pain was from spells cast in Ellesmera, or whether Laucki merely found it amusing to torture him. Nonetheless, each time the burning in his back returned, Eragon had forsaken his cries, merely willing those in the elven forest to understand the cause of his pain. It would not do for the remnants of the world to see his brokeness.

Although the dark crystals caused no visible scarring on his back, gouge marks from his nails lined the muddied skin; clawing at his spine had done little to lessen the pain, and had left lingering marks that twitched and itched constantly. Despite the efforts of his captors, Eragon had dedicated himself to any physical exercise he could manage within the confines of his prison. A corner of his mind had accepted the fact that he had been captured, that he would not survive, and had begun to take measures to prolong his existence. The rider and shadeslayer had fought against his mind, which wished to emaciate his body, minimising energy use in the damp cell. Counteracting his subconscious, Eragon worked out while his back was spared from agony, doing his utmost to stay in shape on the minimal rations he received morning and evening.

As Eragon writhed on his first day of torture, his head had struck a sharp stone, bloodying his dark hair. To maintain some form of sanity, he had taken the rough rock and carved a line next to his cot; one each day, marking how many days he remembered being in the cell. The brown eyed man was twirling the makeshift utensil between his fingers when he heard footsteps approaching, the bars on his prison swinging out. Rusty hinges squealed and grated against each other, red dust floating to the damp floor as black boots stepped lightly into the cell.

"Please, make yourself at home. Would you like a drink?" Eragon drawled, indicating the salty water dripping from the roof. A brief mental glance from Laucki made Eragon groan, his back arching at the now-familiar pain.

"Now now Shadeslayer, let's not waste energy with... pleasantries." Laucki said with a smile as he watched the rider squirm.

"What do you want?" Eragon snarled between gritted teeth.

"You might be surprised to hear that it's not you I desire." Laucki replied lightly, smiling once more at Eragon's frown of interest. "Yes, young rider, I actually have no interest in your survival at all."

"Then why am I here? Or why don't you kill me now?" Eragon asked, his voice low.

"Perhaps I shall kill you..." Laucki said nonchalantly, clicking his fingers.

At once Eragon felt a sharp pain at the base of his neck, all feeling in his body disintegrating as suddenly as the connection between his brain and body snapped. He felt his mouth open to breath, but air passed helplessly past his tongue, while his eyes widened in shock, shadows beginning to form round his vision, rapidly closing over.

"Fascinating, isn't it." Laucki remarked, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "The body of living creatures can continue to function to some extent, even as blood flow stops, air fails to reach the lungs. You can still hear me, see me, smell me. And yet you have no control over your body at large. The realisation that you WILL die becomes as clear as a still lake. Regrets, lost opportunities, all come rushing back as your brain runs out of energy, slowing down your mind, making it last for an eternity."

Even as Laucki spoke, Eragon's conscious spread itself immeasurably, covering the time and space that had defined his life. From fleeing Carvahall with his father, defeating Durza with a blazing sword, to capturing the heart of a queen; Eragon saw it all. Reaching beyond himself, his nerves separated from his brain, Eragon sought desperately two souls. Their joy at his presence was stilled at his morbid words uttered weakly in their minds. _Saphira. Arya. I love you both. Please, do not mourn. They need you now._

Cries of outrage and sorrow threatened to consume his fading mind as the two beings closest to him argued against him, demanding he remain with them, to not give up. _Be still. Do not mourn. Live. Love. _Eragon spoke faintly, his voice fading even in his mind.

Consumed by desperate anger a surge of defiance shot from Saphira, fighting for control over Eragon's being, holding him in place, forcing thoughts into his mind. _No. _She roared, forcing Eragon through the ancient barrier he had erected in his mind, flooding him with power to wield at his command. Once more Saphira guided his thoughts, constructing a complex spell that was far past his capabilities as he sat numb on his cot, looking into the gleaming eyes of the traitor.

As the power flowed through, Eragon's neck twitched briefly, causing him to scream at the onslaught of reignited pain that consumed his back. Simultaneously, Laucki grunted as the air around him coalesced, slamming the elf against the iron bars with a loud clang.

Trembling from the pain in his back, and the revitalising release in power that was once more locked away, Eragon stood tall, looking down at Laucki's prone figure with disdain. "The problem is of course, if you fail to kill me... what happens then?"

"We go back to step one." Laucki snarled, his mind brushing against Eragon's, who once more collapsed to the floor, curling his body in an attempt to escape the pain. "I had no plans to let you die this day, rider." the elven torturer spat as he pushed himself up; eyes glowing maliciously in the limited light. "Your use is far more systematic than a quiet death in a cell. No, I need you alive until _he _comes. Rest assured, once you have outlived your usefulness, I will kill you, and it will be far from quiet."

"Who is _he_? And why do you need me?" Eragon cursed.

"_He _is the reason your kind exist, the reason riders command peace in the land. He is your beginning and your namesake. Eragon Shurtugal is the reason I was banished, decried as a traitor to the knotted throne." Laucki turned away from Eragon, grey hands curled to fists by his side.

"When I escaped the clutches of Ellesmera I sought to remove myself from the abhorrent state that was the elven nation. They had defiled their beings by bonding with dragons, however rare it was that such beasts would hatch for my kind. I did not wish to have any contact with the alfakyn. I left, travelling north to the wastelands, testing my mettle against the beasts of the land. And then they came, Eragon Shurtugal and Bid'daum Peace-wings." Laucki spat, his words curdling the air around them as he turned to look Eragon in the face.

Silver eyes bored into Eragon, who could not help but shake at the rage held within the pupils. "I had told my dearest sister that the shurtugal was weak, and in a moment of epiphany, I bound your predecessor to my will. There was nothing he could do while I maintained the flow of magic which so richly runs in my veins. Yet in the dead of the night, he and his cursed dragon broke free of my bonds, seeking to destroy me. As if they had not destroyed my life already."

"Your anger and lust for power had already done that." Eragon said sadly, wishing that such a beast could not have come from the beauty and kindness of the elves.

"There are two sides to every gold piece Shadeslayer. Do not assume to know me, although the Shurtugal said much the same, before I stabbed his dragon with a blade, conveniently coated with a crude sample of the crystals within your back." Laucki said, his voice dripping with glee at the memory of it, brushing against Eragon's mind once more. The twisted elven grin widened at the writhing rider before him.

"Dragons are magical beings. A dark, beastly magic, not unlike that of shades, but a magic nonetheless." Laucki continued once Eragon lay still. "Bid'daum could not function with my poison within his veins, and their link incapacitated the first rider. Like I told Rhunon; weak. The riders without their dragons are nothing, and the dragons without their riders are quickly disposable with the right tools. However the magic that is bound to every dragon is a fickle thing; effectively uncontrollable, unspoken, instinctive."

Eragon raised his eyebrows from his position on the cold floor, hot sweat mixing with the freezing drops from the ceiling. Questions swirled round his mind, flocking from one strain of thought to another. Nothing that Laucki had said so far linked Eragon to anything that had been spoken. He was about to argue that Brom had functioned exceptionally as a rider without Saphira, but his back twitched at the thought of provoking the ancient elf further. Regardless, the grey eyes had glazed over as if Eragon were not there, and he suspected any conversation would be like that with a brick wall.

"Fourteen years I spent tapping the secrets of the dragon's magic, uncovering knowledge that would cause the world to burn if it were ever left to any lesser man than I. Fourteen years of glorious, dangerous and fantastical research into those beasts. One residing thought was the forerunner of every decision made by the skulblaka. Preservation. Not an uncommon, or unreasonable notion, to be fair. Yet the dragons were different. It was, and perhaps still is, as if nature riles against the thought of the loss of the race of dragons. Forces that defy every known law of the world seem to be possible when accomplished through a dragon. Physical, chemical and magical barriers bear no candle to the feats I have seen accomplished by dragons." Laucki paused, his glazed eyes seeing events long past, leaving Eragon lying mutely on the floor; acutely aware that any sudden movement would draw the war master from his reverie.

Eragon looked up sharply at Laucki's next words, heart accelerating in his chest. "Even once you have destroyed a dragon, it can live on, able to communicate, store energy and function even after death, defying all known laws of nature and life."

"Eldunari." He muttered absently as the haunting grey orbs cleared to a cunning silver.

"Yes, Shadeslayer. You know of the abhorrent and absolute power one can wield with an eldunari. Distinctly magical objects bound in a gem like state... so what would happen if an eldunari were to become infected with the poison you should now be familiar with?"

Laucki sneered, delving into Eragon's mind and plucking at each of the rider's happiest memories as pain erupted through his spine. There was nothing he could do except wait for the pain to abate while the elf waited for his subject to still, madness lighting up the demeanour of the old figure.

* * *

Roran paced angrily, his thoughts consumed at the injustice of fate. Eragon was gone, captured or dead. And not even the riders that he had worked so hard to restore could find him, let alone rescue him.

Turning on his heel once more, the general ignored the captivating view of Ellesmera that he usually revelled in, glancing at his wife as she admired the silken dress she held.

The elves had provided a set of clothes for each of the Stronghammer refugees. The fine silks were a pleasant departure from the ruined attire that survived the trek from the depths of the Spine. Katrina had offered her services to pay for the cloth, but Dathedr had refused, solemnly reminding her it was the elves that had caused their discomfort and saying that if the need arose, he or Arya would contact them.

Roran had snarled at the elven politicians when his wife had happily relayed Datehdr's words. "It means we are indebted to them, and only wait for their call." he said under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Be grateful for what we have Roran. We have both suffered worse, and are in safe hands now."

Nodding to himself at the thought, Roran spoke his wife's words to himself again; as if he could convince himself of the acceptance his wife so readily managed. Gone were the days of reprimanding a queen of rebels and stubbornly refusing assistance.

_She is perfect, and has always been perfect._

As if sensing his thoughts, copper locks parted while Katrina glanced pointedly at Roran, raising her eyebrows at him. Frowning, he looked down, releasing his hammer from a subconsciously clenched fist. Sighing, he walked over to Katrina as she smiled.

"I won't let anything happen to my family, should the world come to war." he said, placing his hands on her waist.

"The world IS at war Roran, just nobody is prepared to admit it. Elves run rampant across the empire, destroying all but the largest cities. Illirea is over-run with refugees, Dras Leona and Belatona aren't much better, while Nasuada left no orders before fleeing to Ellesmera." Katrina put a finger to Roran's lips. "I did not say anyone could have done anything differently. But the truth is the world is at war. The dwarves are sealed off, waiting instructions from their leader. The Urgals are as disjointed as ever with the loss of Nar Garzhvog."

Embracing his wife gently, he hushed her as she began to rant into his chest. "It'll be ok. We'll be ok."

A crashing came from the adjacent room as Carn backed into his father's view, waving a painted stick as Garrow battered hap-hazardly at him with another dummy sword.

"Back! You eval persun! Brusungr" Carn shouted at his brother, melodramatically allowing Garrow to stab him before pointing his wooden stick to the other twin's heart.

Roran chuckled at the all too common scene. The forced battle between Eragon and Murtagh was a common bard across the empire; and one that was often expanded on for dramatic purposes. Being related to both combatants only ensured that the Stronghammer twins enjoyed the tale moreso, regardless of the accuracy.

Katrina looked up at Roran earnestly, her eyes glittering with the hint of tears. "And we have the riders." she said quietly.

"Yes, we have the riders." he agreed, letting go of his wife and moving to the knotted chair by the kitchen. Sighing, Roran sat down, aware of Katrina's eyes on him. After a moment, she turned back to the pile of new clothes, sizing each item against imaginary family members. His gaze distant, Roran's fingers absently sought out the smooth pebble that had stubbornly lain in his palm despite his highest levels of concentration and intonation of the ancient language. Since his first attempt at releasing magical abilities, Roran had kept the rock, occasionally seeing if it would rise for him. Its continued lack of movement reminded him of his humanity, and the reality that there were some obstacles he would never defeat or overcome by sheer force alone.

"You don't still have that silly pebble do you?" a voice spoke lightly, causing Roran to look up, his back straightening to lean fully against the low chair..

"When did you learn to sneak into a room like that?" he asked his eldest child with a frown, surprised that she had been able to enter unannounced.

"When Ebr... Uncle Eragon taught me," Ismira replied with a cheeky grin, covering her blunder.

"Ebrithil eh?" Roran smirked. "I wish you treated me with the same respect."

Ismira raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "If you earnt it, I might treat you the same way. It's ok though, I'm sure you don't want to know what I know about where Eragon is anyways." Turning sharply, she made to grab the door pull, fingers clasping the intricate timber.

"Wait, what?" Roran demanded, springing off the chair and raising a hand as if to stop her. "What do you know?" The twinkle in her eye and thin smile caused him to groan inside. She had played him perfectly.

Winking at her father, Ismira shrugged, her copper hair bouncing around her shoulders. "Nothing."

"Izzy." Katrina chided. "Don't do that to your father."

"Yeah Izzy." Garrow and Carn parroted in the background, earning a glare from their mother and sister.

Roran watched as a mask slipped from his daughter's face, the cheeky smile wiped by the uncertainty and sorrow that was the undercurrent of Ellesmera. Embracing her small frame, he strained to hear the muffled words emanating from his silken jacket.

"All the older riders felt Eragon's mind while we were training. But none of us could touch him. He was there, but not." Ismira spoke quietly, her thin arms gripping Roran tightly.

Thinking over his limited knowledge of magic and its restrictions, Roran took his daughters moist cheek in his hand and had her look at him with bright eyes.

"If they can feel him, did they scry Eragon?" he asked gently.

Sniffing, Ismira nodded. "Arya did, but nobody could see where he was. Except for Angela. She knows."

Something clicked in Roran's mind as he heard the words. _Angela knows._ _So why doesn't everyone?_ "Did Angela say where Eragon has been taken?"

Ismira shook her head with a confused frown. "No, she said there was something the queen must do for her before she reveals where Laucki took Eragon."

"I bet Saphira loved hearing that." Roran muttered, letting his daughter go embrace her mother. "Did Angela or Arya say when they'd show us where he is?" Roran leant against the wall, knowing he would just have to wait for news. Arya was not one to be pushed around. And Angela wasn't one to even consider pushing around.

"It'll be ok." Katrina cooed quietly to her tired child, although Roran wasn't sure if his wife was trying to convince him, or his daughter.

* * *

Grey metal cleaved the air where Godok had stood before, the dwarf rolling across the ground to avoid Dazhgra's deadly blade.

"Good!" Dazhgra grunted, as Godok locked his golden sword with Dazhgra's grey. The dwarf held himself sternly against Dazhgra's strength, but the Urgal would not be denied; twisting the weapon from Godok's grip, he flicked his inherited sword to the neck of his opponent.

Godok nodded with the trace of a grimace. No matter his efforts, Dazhgra had defeated him in combat swiftly and surely each time they sparred.

_Maybe I'm just not good enough to be a full rider._

A growl flitted across his mind. _Do you think so little of your dragon that I would choose someone unworthy? _Jonkirn demanded. Godok winced at the offence he had caused. _I was seen by all the elves, humans and urgals before I found you. None of them were acceptable to be my rider._ Nodding meekly, Godok returned his focus to the present, where Dazhgra was watching him carefully.

"Did firesword ever tell you of his first visit to Ellesmera?" the shaman asked, sheathing his sword and walking to the apprentice tree houses.

Godok replied cautiously. "No, and I would never have considered it any different to now. The elves love riders, we have all seen that.. despite Laucki's ministrations on the world."

"Aye, but it was not always this way for ebrithil." Dazhgra said, retrieving two cups from the cupboard as Godok entered the hut behind him. The Urgal paused while he sipped the fresh cool water that he poured for them.

"Thank you." Godok smiled as he waited for Dazhgra to continue.

"When Saphira hatched for Eragon, he was barely sixteen years old, a human farmboy from the north."

"Sixteen?"Godok asked, "But Ismira is barely ten."

"You are correct, however Izzy did not become the first rider in a century, under the rule of a dark king. We live in dark times now, but it has not been long that we have had to search into the shadows. Not like then." Dazhgra responded softly, remembering his time in the last war.

"His age is important because he was the only free rider to walk the land. So when he entered Ellesmera for the first time, recently lauded a Shadeslayer, the elves expectations were high. Few men have been known to banish shades."

Beginning to see where the tale was going, Godok continued for Dazhgra. "But because of his back injuries, he could not live to the expectations of the elves."

_More and more we learn of ebrithil's history. He has walked a harder path than most. _Jonkirn spoke quietly to the two males.

Baring his neck proudly, a deep, gutteral roar left Dazhgra's throat. "He is one we can all be proud of, and only hope we can live as wisely as he did."

Godok nodded, grinning as a thought came to his head. "Except for when he tried to kill the group of soldiers wanting to capture him." Dazhgra's look of confusion encouraged the dwarf to continue.

"He hasn't told you that one?" Godok asked, leaning back on his seat. And so the two riders shared their knowledge of Eragon Shadeslayer, ebrithil to them both. Some tales made them laugh at the innocence of a young rider, while some caused them and their dragons to seeth in anger at the injuries bestowed upon Eragon.

* * *

"What is it you desire herbalist?" Arya spoke flatly as the two walked through the forest, her gaze looking down at the shorter woman. She had just felt Eragon's presence, his life slipping away in a wretched dungeon. There had been no time for tears or reconciliation. Just the stark reality that Eragon was dying and there was nothing she could do for him.

"I desire many things drottning, one being the knowledge of snakes and eels. Do you not find it curious -"

"NO! I don't find life curious at all while Eragon is captured by that monster of an elf! I felt him dying! He was dying, Angela! There is NOTHING curious about that." Arya over-rode Angela, her frustration and despair exploding around her. As she shouted, the trees immediately around them began to wilt, the forest groaning at the anger emanating from the queen.

"Love is a powerful force Arya. Magic can be subverted, used in twisted and dark ways. Similarly, love can be manipulated equally. Be mindful of your emotions, lest they be used against you." Angela said softly.

Arya sighed, her shoulders slumping at the loss in energy she expelled. "My apologies Angela, I walk on the edge of two cliffs. Should I stumble either way, I feel I will lose all that is close to me."

"It is a harrowing experience, but one we all must face in our time. As to what my request is, in return for the knowledge of Eragon's location... I wish for an answer."

"But what is the question?" Arya replied with the hint of a smile. She inherently trusted the herbalist, despite the quirky and unpredictable nature of the being.

"I am pleased to know that some wisdom remains with Eragon's departure. The question is why did the knuckle bones lie? And what else did they lie about?" Angela said sharply, looking into Arya's eyes, whose brows contracted in concentration.

"Knuckle bones?" She asked.

"Ah, so he has not shared that particular time with you." Angela muttered, rummaging through her flowing pockets, searching for a silken bag. "These," she said, holding out the contents of a maroon bag, "are the knuckle bones of a dragon."

"Where did you get those?" Arya asked pointedly, a frown creasing her face.

Angela's shy expression gave no answer, as the herbalist continued on regardless.

"Many years ago, while I owned a pokey little business in Teirm, a young boy came to me. In the crowded room, I cast these very bones to ascertain the future of the boy." Angela's eyes glazed over as she remembered the day the world became interesting again.

Arya slowed her walk, turning to look at Angela. "I have no right to hear Eragon's future." To know one's fate could be as great a burden as it could a boon. To know another's was a catalyst for disaster for all involved.

Angela looked sadly at Arya, who could not help but notice the determined glint in the woman's eye. "You may not, but equally you may, given your... friendship... with him. Regardless, my price requires that you hear the words I spoke to a young farm boy that day."

_It is time you heard the words Angela spoke to Eragon long ago. You may proceed if you wish. But do not let the words of fate change your resolve, words alone do not change a man. _Saphira echoed from afar as the queen pondered her choice.

Arya paused, conversing with Firnen briefly before she nodded, sitting against the trunk of a nearby tree. As the prophetic words rolled off Angela's tongue, Arya grew more and more agitated. When the herbalist was silent once more, Arya looked at her, unblinking.

"So he knew, before he'd even met me in person, that we would be together or have some... epic romance as it were. He only loved me because he felt obliged to by fate!" she said tightly.

Angela chuckled gently. "No child, that is not the case. Eragon did not know you were a princess of royal blood until the forests of Du Weldenvarden, by which time you had captured his heart. Heed Bjartskular's words. However that is not why I demand this request. You will note that the prophecy stated Eragon would leave Alagaesia, never to return."

"Yet here he is." Arya nodded.

Angela's excitement grew as Arya began to understand. "Aye, exactly. So how is it that the boy I cast these bones for is here, when he was set to remain afar." Short arms began waving and shaking with anticipation.

Arya smiled. "Because he is not the boy you cast those bones for. He changed, irrevocably."

Angela blinked a number of times as she processed Arya's words. The concept and theory was true, but the herbalist was unsure of whether the practise would hold to the theory. _The queen speaks sense, for better or for worse. _Solembum purred in her mind.

"Hmm, alright then. I have one final request. More of an offer actually, which you are welcome to refuse. It will have no bearing on whether I tell you where Eragon lies."

"What is it you offer, and why?" Arya said, Firnen listening closely to the conversation.

"I have cast the bones for few enough beings in my time. However if you are willing, I shall cast them in your presence. Why? Because it is a curious thing that Eragon should defy fate, and since you and he are the opposite sides of two coins, I find your fate intriguing."

Arya frowned once more, her eyes inscrutable. _Eragon had the bones cast, and he did not shirk from fate._ She thought to herself.

_Did he benefit, or was it merely another concern of a future he could not affect? Do not rush into your decision, for you cannot unhear that which the herbalist speaks, _Firnen said.

_Perhaps. Although I feel as if this is the right thing to do. And yes, despite my reservations with such magic, something is drawing me to do this now. _Arya thought, as her heart tugged at her, the bones seeming to grow large in Angela's hand.

_Do as you feel is right. I will support your decision either way. _Firnen replied, though she sensed his unease.

"Cast the bones for me," Arya said solemnly. Angela flashed a knowing smile at her words, tossing the knuckles into the air, power reverberating around them.

* * *

Eragon's pain had abated, but his torture was far from over as Laucki leered at his still form.

"When I pierced Bid'daum's side, the reaction was impossible to predict. The cursed dragon started thrashing about, throwing your namesake from his back." Laucki reminisced to Eragon, who had little choice but to listen to the madman's tale.

"The beast began to convulse violently, and before I knew it, a small white gem lay in my palm. For you see Shadeslayer, the eldunari within the chest of Bid'daum was subject to the pain caused by the crystalline torturers you are familiar with. Self preservation demanded the eldunari be expelled from the innards of the dragon."

Eragon stared. He knew the pain that Bid'daum would have felt, but to have the eldunari forcibly removed would have broken the dragon's spirit. His thoughts sorted that which he had heard in the cell, trying to piece together the fragments of a long and complex tale. "How would that have helped though?" he asked genuinely.

"How do you mean?" Laucki's musical undertones relapsing into his voice.

Eragon paused, rubbing his jaw gently. "Well, Bid'daum was still alive, so the eldunari would surely have been just a means to know the thoughts of the dragon. Which, as you pointed out, was pain. So why did having the eldunari accomplish anything?"

Laucki smiled at Eragon, who shuddered, trying to banish the visage from his memories. It was a smile of a predator who capture their prey, but wished to toy with the victim.

"Perhaps you are not so incapable as I assumed. In itself, having control of a living dragon's eldunari is futile, as the beast can physically protect any attempts to subdue the soul of the dragon. But as the body of Bid'daum was the cause of great pain to the eldunari, two minds began to form. For an eldunari to turn against its master in hatred of the pain was unheard of, unprecedented. And yet, I know it to be true, for as I held the white gem, Bid'daum's mind had disappeared. Two beings were created. One, which I could bend to my will with little difficulty, and another, which could not access the magic so inherent in its race."

A raucous laughter filled the small room, echoing off the stone walls as Laucki threw his bed back in mirth at the memory. "Bid'daum was cut from all but the most basic of magicka, unable to bond with his rider, while I held all the power of a dragon in my palm. Justice had been served."

Something inside Eragon broke at the words, at the actions of the man who seemed incapable of empathy or compassion. Throwing himself against the elf, he screamed at his captor, obscenities flying off his tongue as he assaulted the elf.

Flinching at Eragon's unrestrained anger, the ancient elven master fell before the rider's blows, before flicking his mind against Eragon's once more.

Kicking his jailor one last time, Eragon collapsed to the floor as his back convulsed violently, the depth of Laucki's probe tearing at his mind.

"My tale was not yet complete Shadeslayer. Restrain yourself." Laucki sneered casually, though he winced at the pain in his ankle as he stood. Eragon smiled in his mind, despite the lingering torment his back suffered.

"When I separated his dragon from its eldunari, Eragon Shurtugal was less than thrilled. He attempted to attack me as you just did, but his outburst was expected, and I subdued him quickly. Shortly after I departed, leaving the broken rider and his flightless dragon dying in the wastelands. I had no wish to return to Alagaesia, so I travelled, seeing natural wonders and beasts that would overwhelm your senses. For thousands of years, my power grew as I and the eldunari sought challengers from the darkness. None stood against us, until a travelling bard passed our way. He spoke of a light amongst the shadows, who searched for an ancient being."

Eragon grinned at his predecessors tenacity to survive. A tendril of thought touched his and he jerked, expecting pain at the contact. When none came, he grasped the being lightly, his eyes shut as he waited for the pain to erupt in his back.

_Eragon? _An ancient voice whispered, recoiling slightly at his touch. The voice was ancient, the mind of one who has seen too much to recall coherently.

_Aye. I am Eragon. _he thought back, the words springing to his mind unbidden.

Another mind brushed his own, to which the first soul recoiled as if stung, pushing the trio apart; a flash of pain drawing Eragon back to his cell and the tale Laucki had obliviously continued. "And that, young Shadeslayer, is why you are here. Because a damned rider would not give up his pursuit of me. You are my bargaining chip."

Laughing haughtily, Eragon sneered. "And you think I will go along with this plan?"

Pain erupted through his back as Laucki's despise for him thickened the air in the room as he twisted a mental knife into Eragon's back. "You have no choice. I have the soul of the first rider's dragon, thousands of years of experience, and an army of elves who would kill each other before betraying me. It was not for nought that I subdued the race I deserve to rule. A rider cannot fight alone against an army of elves. The board is set... the pieces are moving."

The sound of hurried footsteps drew Eragon and Laucki's attention, both watching the rusty gate of the rider's cell. Fiolr's face appeared amongst the darkness, his eyes glittering with malice. Bowing to Laucki, the elven traitor spoke quickly.

"My lord, news from the south. Our army has reached the dwarves."

* * *

**A/N: **Hmm, does that make sense? The whole concept of this part of the plot was difficult to formulate in words. I hope I've done an ok job. Let me know if you think I haven't, and I'll come back and assess.

Chapter 21 should be back to my weekly (roughly) update schedule, but no guarantees.

Thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed. If you are registered with the fanfiction website, I can (and generally do) respond to reviews privately, so get on it :)

I'm deciding not to respond to any questions in this chapter, but may do next chapter. Thanks again!


	21. Every Action

**A/N: Guess who's back? ME!**

**This is kind of a belated Christmas/New Years present. I'm not sure I'm 100% happy with it, so reviews are awesome :)**

**On with the show/story/whatever :) Enjoy**

* * *

Iorunn sighed in relief, hammer dropping to her waist. A slaughtered pack of Shrrg lay before the hunters of Durgrimst Vrenshrrgn. They had tracked one of the injured beasts back to the small pack prowling the western slopes of the Beors. The dwarven stalkers hid their scent with magic, heavy feet barely rustling the undergrowth thanks to the soft leather of their boots. As night fell on the fifth hunting day, the pursuers surrounded the mountain wolves and swarmed through the pack, slaughtering mercilessly as the predefined groups battled their respective beast. The matted hides of the wolf pack would keep her Durgrimst warm for many seasons to come, the respective meat a tough substitute for boar in times of famine.

None of the dwarves had been slain in the highly practiced raid. In all, a highly successful expedition. _It is not for naught that my clan be named after the beasts we hunt_ Iorunn thought with a smirk, moving amongst her troupe, congratulating the final slayers of each wolf. Their names would be sung in the lower halls of Tronjheim the next eve.

The leader of the dwarven clan yelped as she fell onto the harsh ground, arms thrown in front of her in shock. Groaning at the embarrassment, Iorunn rolled onto her back, looking at her boot, which had caught in a stubborn tree root. Silently noting the most exuberant onlookers, she snarled at the leather hugging her foot. Jerking her leg seemed to do little, merely causing more of her dwarves to smother laughter at their thrashing leader. Mercifully, Iorunn's second in command, a surprisingly young, but remarkably intuitive dwarf came to her rescue.

He quickly hacked at the root with a short sword, a slight blush the only hint at his amusement. The smartly clad young male stepped back once the obstacle was cleared, knowing his leader would want to stand by her own means. As expected, the grimstborith pushed herself back to her feet, strong forearms hidden by the thick coat she wore. Brushing the grime from her being, and succeeding only to smudge the mess, Iorunn cast her gaze among the now silent group of hunters, lingering on the worst offenders who had been unable to contain their mirth at her predicament. Smiling thinly, Iorunn cleared her throat to once more commend the hunters, as her eyes caught a dull flash within the tree line. The air seemed to thicken with fear, and the head huntresses suddenly realised the feeling of a hunter becoming the hunted. Silence no longer seemed friendly. The forest was too silent, the quiet birdsongs distinguished as light in a cave. Something was out there, preparing an ambush identical to that which she had performed mere minutes ago.

Bringing her hammer up, Iorunn swiveled sharply, seeking out any hidden attackers in the trees. No other irises could be seen, but her honed instincts told her otherwise. Once more, the youthful second in command showed his worth, calling the hunters to attention while he noted his leader's concern. There was nothing they could do in preparation for the warriors that suddenly burst from the trees, swords and arrows butchering the dwarven hunters.

_The circle is now complete. The hunters become the hunted_, bitterness coating Iorunn's thoughts; the Vrenshrrgn funeral words coming to the forefront of her mind. Waves of the elven army fell over the dwarves, such was their numbers that the shortest race was trampled by the oncoming beings. Tactics and advantages discovered by the nation-wide games were useless in an ambush, and despite the hunters bravery and skill, they were swept away to the halls of the Gods. Iorunn smiled at her final thought: seeing her father once more, knowing death was upon her.

Although none of the dwarven clans complained of the sudden absence of feldunost amongst the ranges, many leaders wondered at the departure of the carnivorous beasts to the north western slopes of the Beor mountains.

* * *

The world crumbled beneath the weight of a siege as effective as it was unexpected. Laucki had remained absent from the small cell for days, sending his spy to gloat to Eragon. Fiolr had been keen to boast of the elves destruction of townships on their path to the dwarven halls, although he had not been quite so gleeful when describing the invasion of the Beors to the broken rider. The lieutenant's final task ensured Eragon remained disheartened and weak; regular sessions with Bid'daum's eldunari. Magic sealed the physical connection even as Eragon screamed at the forced mental probe igniting his back pain.

A bitter laugh escaped his torn throat as he marveled at the irony of the situation. A broken rider, forced to hold the broken soul of a dragon, while the world broke around them.

The eldunari itself was largely unremarkable, its pale white shell glowing faintly, not unlike Vrangr had in the depths of Urubaen. Unlike many of the ancient souls restored from that hell, Bid'daum's heart of hearts was small enough to hold comfortably in his hands, were it not for the festering pain that ignited upon contact.

Sitting up from the floor, drenched in his own sweat, Eragon once more considered the trial of splitting a soul. Despite the excrutiating pain he endured, the confusion that Bid'daum must have suffered was incomprehensible. Two souls created from one, completely separate and yet mirrors of the other. A clatter brought the rider back to his surroundings, a plate of indiscernible food sliding across the floor under the sneering gaze of his jailer. Two blunt implements rattled next to what he assumed was some attempt at a stew of scraps.

Rolling the wooden fork between his fingers, morbid thoughts sprouted deep within Eragon's subconscious. _It would be so easy. Just a jab to the neck, and it would be all over. The short term pain would last barely a minute, freeing me. _Ideas of rescue were but a fantasy he no longer bothered to laugh at while dark thoughts consumed him like the shadows of his cell. There were others who could, and likely would, save the races from Laucki. The riders would survive, even after he himself passed away. It would help Murtagh, the painful reminder of his past deeds against Eragon dead with him. Blodhgarm would be freed of his duties to protect Eragon. Arya could remain queen without his presence reminding her of the choice to remain monarch. Saphira would be free to do as she please, not be bound to him...

Saphira and Arya. Names from a time seemingly long ago, when wars were led to free the land of a tyrant rule, not prevent its destruction. Names he had barely considered since the introduction of the pale eldunari. Revulsion cast any thought of self harm to the recesses of Eragon' mind. Self-pity and the rationalization of such ideas would help him no more than complaining about the food provided.

Sitting up straight in his cot, back gently touching the stone wall so as not to pain the tender muscles he dared not look upon, Eragon thought back to the fateful hunt in the depths of the Spine. The beginning of a new, incomprehensible life. Dragon riders were the product of stories, epic stories, but stories none the less. Who would have picked a farm boy to lead the resurgence of free riders in the land. _Clearly not the _elves, he thought to himself with a laugh. For the first time since his capture, Eragon Shadeslayer smiled, the small cell temporarily forgotten along with the problems of the world.

_Eragon... _A voice sounded in his mind, trailing away quickly.

* * *

The two dwarven guards playing a heated game of runes never noticed the quiet click of low heels in the largest tunnel separating Tronjheim from the outside world. There had been no sign of elven activity in the area, all war efforts were focussed to the northern caverns, far from the depths of the dwarven colonies. "Besides, Orik was a fool to accept the rider's. Riders bring naught but trouble mine father always told", the younger watchmen reasoned, "so what could the elves want with the dwarves, great opposers of the shurtugal?"

The older man stroked his wispy beard, deftly collecting the runes the younger player had sacrificed in his distraction. "It is not our place to question our King, young Kisva. Orik led us through the war with his brother, Volund sweeping away the enemies at Urubaen alongside the flames of Brightscales and Brisingr. Do not forget that it was a rider that defeated the dark forces knocking on our door." Kisva shuffled anxiously, his eyes flicking to the eternal darkness of the tunnel ahead. Hvedra had paired the hot headed younger generation with some of the more accepting guards from the army, attempting to curb the alarming lack of tolerance rising in the community.

The queen's plan had succeeded in part, until a watch had begun a competition to see which generation was most proficient at runes. The concept had spread like wildfire, and within a week of the new regime, sporadic scouts had been sent to 'awaken' the guards from their games.

Kvisor growled lowly at the lesser runes on his board, "I do not question mine mighty king, Orik, old Güntel. Mine thoughts rest on the rider Eragon. Who is to say he will not return and wipe out all life in Alagaesia with a mere thought. With a frown, the young guard began to shuffle his runes on his board, searching for a yet unseen combination.

Güntel shook his head at the sprightly dwarf; headstrong, invincible in his own mind, yet notoriously naive to the world. Güntel had kept his magical abilities a secret, wishing to protect his family through the dwarven armed forces instead of the shady magicians corp. His understanding of the ancient power convinced him no single man could wipe the world with one spell without his own destruction. Let alone the dangers of wordlessly casting. So he was silent to Kvisor's challenge, smiling as he noted the quiet steps approaching from just behind the two.

"Had Orik been amongst us Kvisor, you would be banished for your accusations against Eragon, mine husband's adopted brother." A sharp flick to the back of Kvisor's head whipped the young dwarf's neck down, wincing at the slap to his ambitions the comment would surely ensue. Turning to the queen, who stood imperiously behind the two guards, Kvisor bowed gently to Hvedra, his neck twitching at the whiplash. The darkly clad queen smiled thinly at him, turning to Güntel.

"Mine forebear held you in high praise brother Güntel. Do not allow your reputation to tarnish by a repeat of today's actions. It is not pleasing to see the forward-most guards of the greatest dwarven city idly counting runes while the elves run rampant across Alagaesia." Güntel nodded sagely, apologising quickly to the fair queen. He flinched at Kvisor's abrupt challenge to the queen.

"Pah. The national games have shown the world weakness in the elves. They are not as invincible as you would have us believe. Only a fool would fear an elf." Kvisor snarled with a smirk.

Hvedra paused before responding, blinking rapidly. No matter how her vision flickered, the brash young dwarf still stood before her, the smirk plastered on his face. Güntel merely shook his head in disgust, subtly sweeping the rest of Kvisor's runes from the table. Hvedra smirked at the greed of even the more respectable dwarves, glaring at Kvisor. "I shall allow that comment to pass, but should you ever face an elf in battle, do not presume you have any more chance than a slug under a foot of stone."

Kvisor's smirk was replaced by anger, and he rose to confront the queen further. As his mouth opened for a sharp retort, fire burned through his chest as a flaming arrow pierced his hide. Güntel dived for Hvedra, knocking the woman over as a storm of glowing arrows flew through the spot the queen just left. Reaching for the relay of magicians along the dwarven tunnels, Guntel was brief in his descriptions. _Attack. West entrance. Recommend reinforcements. _His mind worked furiously as Kvisor finally fell, the clatter of armor muffled by adrenaline. The arrow protuding was more elegant than dwarves ever bothered and far more deadly than the humans could manage.

A low thunder of running feet drowned out the heavy breathing of the queen below him. Years spent in the tunnels of Farthern Dur lent the experienced warrior the sharp reality of just how many elves were approaching. Brusquely touching his mind to Hvedra, who allowed the loyal guard access to her mind, he reached once more to the magicians posted along the entrance tunnels. The full weight of the queen's influence flowed through the relay as Güntel ordered the most immediate and comprehensive solution. _Belay that last. Seal the tunnels. _A tremor ran down his spine as the words passed along the messengers.

The effect was instantaneous. Measures taken after the invasion of the shade proved their worth in the sudden ambush. Cracks quickly formed around the walls, the mountain groaning at the crumbling foundations of the imploding tunnels. Güntel grinned savagely at the startled yells coming from further down the tunnel as the walls collapsed upon the elven army. His death was a small price to pay for the destruction of the elves and the extended safety of the dwarven capital. Farthern Dur and Tronjheim were immediately sealed from the world, as had once been under the ascension of an evil rider, even as the darkness of death overtook Güntel and his queen.

* * *

Gannel lowered himself to the ground, gently kneeling on the cold stone of the temple floor. The death of Hvedra in the passes to Tronjheim shook the dwarven population as much as the imminent invasion of the elves. With Orik secluded with the leaders of the nations, responsibility had fallen to Gannel to provide hope for the clans.

A particularly heated discussion with the surviving Grimsborith's led Gannel once more to the temple he oversaw. Some of the cynical leaders of the dwarves questioned the validity of the dwarven gods and Gannel's devotion to worship. What they didn't appreciate was the extra time Gannel spent in the cool, dark rooms sacrificing to Guntera during the wars. He would kneel for days on end, breaking only when his loyal followers demanded he sleep and eat.

There was little doubt in his own mind that only the gods could save his race now. Rumbles had shaken the quiet of Farthern Dur for a week after the tunnels collapse. The elves were coming, and only time and thick rock held back the ravaging horde. A brief missive from Orik had declared that all elves near the dwarven capital should be assumed as hostile and be dealt with appropriately. The bulk of the message from the king spoke of the take-over of an ancient evil that instructed the armies against all nations, only Illirea and the depths of Du Weldenvarden spared from invasion as yet. A return message had been sent in the dead of the night to the eastern reaches of the caverns, through networks barely large enough for a dwarf. Gannel hoped and prayed that the report could bypass the elven battalions before reaching Orik.

As his body relaxed into the familiar humble pose on the floor, the priest's mind stretched out, projecting his calm call to the Gods. The stone seemed to close around him, the foundations of his belief reaching to his mind. Throughout the process, Gannel remained at peace. It was not uncommon for his worship to lead to ideas that he would later take to the council. The voices were sometimes gentle as a cool breeze, yet could equally be as sharp and ringing as huthvir colliding with rock. Yet as the dwarven worshiper knelt before the stone busts, the voice felt different, as if many voices clamoured for the attention of his mind. And as the voices collided with Gannel's mind, sliding over his barriers as easily as the Gods, he knew something was wrong. The voices were lilted, confused and too familiar to be that of the gods. Gannel's final sane thought was that if rock could not stop the elven minds, it would certainly not stop their physical invasion. And then the mad voices swept through the consciousness of the priest.

In days to come, despite the insistence of Gannel's loyal followers, the priest would not move, his body rigid and his eyes as dark and blank as the darkest tombs of Tronjheim.

The incapacitation of the dwarven priest brought the rest of the dwarves to their knees. Farthern Dur was silent within weeks, each dwarven family and clan retreating to the deepest halls, secret passages leading to areas bored through the thickest rock during the construction of Tronjheim. Clan truces broke as friends fought for food and supplies, each family as desperate as the next. Bodies were left behind as the weak were trampled under the rush away from the city. No dwarf was safe, and none were under any illusions as to the danger they faced, the deep rumbles an ever present reminder of their approaching foe.

* * *

Verdra looked across the dense forest around her tree-house, contemplating all they had heard in the past week. An urgent scroll from the dwarves appeared to have slipped through the attacking elven army, the pigeon arriving at Orik's quarters. The news quickly spread throughout Ellesmera, which had been waiting with bated breath for days following Arya's revelation of Eragon's location. "Teirm" was all the elven queen had said to the riders before retreating deep into the forest, leaving Dathedr in charge during her absence. Firnen had flown after his rider, and neither had been seen in days.

The elven council had been adamant in their decision not to move the remnants of their army towards Teirm until Arya returned, despite Dathedr and the rider's arguments. Numerous times during the debates, Thorn had restrained Saphira from torching the elven leaders and their glacial decision making. Roran had begun to understand why so little of Ellesmera had changed in the nine years of Eragon's absence, while the rest of Alagaesia moved quickly towards the future. That the dwarves were now under direct attack left Teirm largely undefended. The port city was renowned for its defenses, the tiered roofs ideal for thwarting an invading force. It was an impossible choice for Verdra: save the leader of those who had given her new life, or save her birth people, who were destined to lose the coming slaughter.

"Sitting around here debating backwards and forwards with the elves is pointless, you must see it!" Godok spoke with passion as he paced behind Verdra, footsteps heavy with his discomfort.

The younger dwarf turned to her male compatriot, attempting a compassionate smile despite her private agreement with his sentiment. "Godok, all of the riders are frustrated at the pace things have moved. We are used to ebrithil's decision making. Despite his looks, Eragon is human. For better or for worse, human choices are made swiftly and decisively. The elves, and to some extent our own people, do not embark on any journey without sifting through enough advice to counsel a king."

"And it is for this reason that I come to the remnants of my people in this hour of need. Those who have been privileged to the thinking of mine foster brother will be better prepared than elves who spend their days in the trees, heads in the cloud." Verdra looked up at Orik's silhouette outlined in the natural doorway. Godok immediately bowed to the dwarven king, head bowed. "Your loss is a terrible blow for us all, mine king."

Orik smiled sadly and stepped into the room. "And yet, we do not have the luxury to mourn the loss of loved ones. My duty is to my people, not my personal desires." Verdra stood and looked to her former king. "It is good to see you also Verdra, Eragon has taught you well."

Nodding to Orik formally, Verdra cut past the pleasantries. _If he means what he said, we should not dawdle. _"What can we do for you king Orik?"

Godok shot the younger dwarf a scandalised look, to which she raised her brows. A rider's responsibility was to the land, not the pleasantries of socialising. _Had not Eragon spoken on this before we left Evarinya Mor'ranr?_

Orik grinned further at Verdra's question, clapping his hands together. "This is why I ask the riders on their opinion. I can see mine foster-brother in each of you. What I ask is advice on how to lead our... mine, people in this time? It is not a question I can answer with mine own heart, and despite his age, Eragon Shadeslayer showed his wisdom in the ranks of the Varden far greater than could have been expected.

Verdra's eldunari spoke softly in their head, shielded from Godok or any wandering minds. The _dwarf king is right. Eragon had to learn quickly the value of wisdom, and how it is to be used. It is only natural that his pupils retain some of those ideals from his teachings._

Ilumeo roared outside the hut, causing Orik to turn with upraised brows. _Godok and Verdra can navigate the tunnels better than any elf._

Jonkirn snorted in agreement, flames scorching the side of the tree. _We will be restricted by tunnels, but so will Elves._ Images of towering flames rushing through a dark tunnel washed across their sense, and Orik shuddered with the thought.

"It was a foolish race that ever considered war with dragonkind." The king spoke, shaking his head.

Verdra looked at Godok, touching the dwarven male's mind gently. The dwaf swayed a bit and nodded an apology to Verdra. _Sorrow is not just an outward emotion. We will have time for it another day._Godok's face cleared and he stood taller, in control of his expressions.

_Many of the elven army will have been crushed by the collapsed tunnels. Their numbers will be weakened. _Godok said, hints of Verdra's plan slipping through her mental shield.

_We are but two riders._ Verdra replied, strengthening her own shields. Godok needed to understand the reasons behind her idea before they left.

_The dwarves need leadership. Since the invasion, the clans have been on the back-foot, without guidance. We can be that until Orik's return until the armies recuperate. _The man's reply was hesitant, his fear at the budding idea escaping across their link.

A raucous laugh drew the dwarves eyes simultaneously, causing Orik to burst into laughter once more at the mirror image. Verdra raised a thick brow, and Godok frowned in question. "You're planning together, aren't you? I could see your minds working, a copy of the other. I've been around those who commune mentally enough to see the symptoms."

Godok smiled at Verdra, and she motioned for him to speak. "Well, here's what we're planning."

* * *

The lithe body pushed itself off Murtagh in the fading darkness; the memory of the soft skin drawing a smile to his face. "I can't keep doing this." Nasuada spoke quietly, her voice muffled by her ebony hair.

"What?" A subconscious part of his brain registered her words, but he forced the concepts from his mind.

"I can't stay away from my people." Her voice was more forceful, as if reassuring herself at the same time. Sighing, Murtagh sat up slowly, the years of war and wandering in the north shaking the dregs of sleep from his thoughts.

Trying to calm the human queen next to him, he quietly rebuffed her, "Leaders are safe, Decisions can be made." Even in his own mind the reason felt weak and pathetic.

"Leaders are safe, everyone else is dying. Decisions aren't being made!" Her sharp retort made him frown, regardless of its truth.

"Well make some decisions then. The riders cannot do everything for everyone at once!" he snapped at her, angry despite himself. The riders had barely formed, and suddenly he had been thrown the trials of leadership in the middle of war. Nasuada's quiet statement stopped his protests.

"That's not... I should go," the queen said, swinging her legs off the bed. Accentuated reflexes kicked in as he brushed his hand against her shoulder, knowing a grab would isolate her more. Time in the dungeon's of Urubaen did not go unscarred, no matter how powerful a healer you saw.

"Nasuada..." he whispered as she paused, her back to him. When she did not respond he pushed on. "I'm sorry. As much as I hate it, I know." Still she did not respond, waiting for something more.

"I know how it feels to be helpless when you know you can do better. I know what it's like being trapped away from the world." He whispered, silently moving closer and rubbing the small of her back with his fingers.

"It is not an easy life we lead is it?" she finally laughed softly, turning to him gently, the morning sun framing her ebony features.

"No. But I never asked for easy." He paused, considering the problem from her perspective; rather than temporal head rider.

"Send a message to Ilirea. They need orders. No doubt the lords are preparing defenses, but your men will need orders and motivation. Besides, there are a few tricks of the city I have kept close to my chest."

She responded with a nod and smile, lighting up the room for him. That smile was equivalent to a hearty round of applause from the solemn human queen.

He shivered as she cupped his jaw in her palms, looking into his soul and speaking exactly the words he needed to hear, as if she knew the very heart of his troubles. "You are the leader of the riders, the most powerful council to roam the earths. It is no longer your time to dismiss the calls of leadership. Strength runs in your blood, in Eragon's and Roran's. we are defined why what we do with the time that is given, not who we are. It's time to leave the shadows Murtagh."

* * *

A loud snort and puff of smoke accompanied Firnen's heavy landing nearby Arya's seated form. She knew the signs of derision in his stance, if the feeling hadn't been rolling off her partner's mind.

_This is, once again, futile. I may support your decision for the ancient one to speak of your fate, but hiding away to understand it is as useful as making wings from feathers to fly with, while you have a dragon to ride. If you are determined to walk this path, speak of that which you know, and do not concern yourself with that which you do not._

Slowly, Arya nodded half heartedly. Angela's words rung in her head, as fresh as just spoken, not from days in the past. Pine leaves lay around her, the twines parted from the bud. Methodically, she had pried each stem away from its other half, watching two sides being torn from each other as she contemplated her prophesied future. Many things she knew or could have guessed. Some things concerned her, while others were inexplicable to the rider.

The rose blossom between the crescent moon was clear for the herbalist to see, and mirrored that which Eragon had heard. An epic romance to outlast empires, to one of noble heritage. He would be immensely powerful, and wise to even the wisest kings. None of which was difficult to understand, except the circumstances. She loved Eragon, that she knew as well as the blade she wielded into battle. But, noble heritage? Did the runes mean noble by blood, or succession or something else entirely. In the recesses of her mind, Firnen hummed but said nothing to assure her.

Long life was perhaps the most redundant statement the elven queen had heard in her short reign. Similarly, the wandering path, choices to shape the world. She was a queen and rider, how could her decisions have little impact upon the world. Angela had paused at that point, her eyes hooded as she spoke. "Be warned, not only will the path you walk shape the world, but will influence the very fate of Alagaesia. Darkness and Light will clash, the victor ruling for millennia to follow." It seemed the confrontation with Laucki would be more decisive to the lands than any had predicted. That the fate was influenced by her choices weighed heavily on her heart. How was she to know which choice to make, which was right?

_You will know. When the time comes, so do not brood on that which has not come to pass. What else do you know of the bones?_ Firnen was gentle but determined in helping Arya past her troubles. Once again she thanked fate for giving her a partner to share herself with. The irony of the next part of the prophecy was not lost on her.

"A solitary peak. You will be seen by many, many will try to subdue your power, yet few will know you intimately and as a friend. It is a sad fate to bear."Despite the prediction, it was an adequate reflection of her life. Envoy to the queen, captive of Durza. Friend to Faolin, Eragon and few others between, the lonely mountain was the way Arya lived.

_Twin peaks, not as solitary as you might believe. You and I shall stand tall above all else. _Firnen laughed softly at his own spin on the runes, as if that belied the reading.

Arya almost smiled at him. _Thank you Firnen. My thoughts may betray me, but I do appreciate your company._

_More than Eragons? _The emerald dragon snorted, as she smiled up at him, not bothering to reply. _Come, there is spare else amongst the runes to remember or reflect. What is it that troubles you? _Arya continued her linear progression through the descriptions of the life before her.

The hammer poised over the seas. A power to create or destroy lives and empires. In itself not an unreasonable idea. Queenly duties demanded some rulings would destroy or create lives for her subjects. _But..._

_Nothing. But nothing. Do not read more into the runes, lest you be consumed by their power. The future is as fluid as the ocean, and your mate has already proven that the runes do not account for every situation. Why is it that you continue to angst over that which you cannot change. You were not always this way._

_Why do you ask when you know the answer? _Arya returned bitterly.

_Why do you resist? _Firnen asked cryptically, though she knew the heart of his question. Reverting to the vocal ancient tongue, she stood and ticked points off her long fingers in anger, the broken pine needles flying at her movement and self despise.

"My life has been torn in two, right from birth. Celebrated as daughter of the king, despised and disciplined for my exuberance.

Loved as daughter, despised as subject of queen

Called to duty above all, yet finding love to rival all." Firnen merely lowered his head until a great yellow eye was level with her own, both unblinking in their stare and resolve.

_You are at a crossroads little one. This must stop, the self doubt, despise and all that corrupts. You cannot continue to cause yourself and those close to you pain for your indecision. It will destroy us. _She started at his use of 'us,' but said nothing as he finished, raising his head once more. _Do not allow the queenship to do such a thing._

Her reply was hopeful for the future, but decidedly sombre at the state she had been reduced to. "I will do what I must."

* * *

Darkness in the forests of Du Weldenvarden were no limitation to a rider as Firnen soared high in the skies, rider and dragon relishing the freedom of flight. Maneuvers that would make Arya scream in terror merely left her with a grin plastered to her features, the melded minds of the two allowing a closer companionship and bond than they had experienced. The land below took a yellow tinge, heat from the animals below shining like beacons in the dark.

_We have a stalker. _They said, both acknowledging the presence through their combined senses. The hooded being had followed them from nearby their place of reflection, easily keeping pace with Firnen's flight.

_It would be rude to keep our admirer waiting. _Their voices agreed, and Firnen nodded even as Arya watched a yellowed self nod while gripping the saddle with sharp eyes.

A brilliant pillar of green flame heralded Firnen's land between the trees as Arya leapt lithely from his back, Ebrithil slipping from its scabbard to her arm.

A laugh escaped the hooded figure as Firnen roared none too gently at their follower. "Well met indeed. I had wondered that you may reach Ellesmera and ignore my presence. I can say I am glad to be wrong." The black hood flicked back, revealing the navy features of Blodgharm.

Letting out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding, Arya sheathed Ebrithil and nodded to the elven guard, friendship ruling over royal procedures.

Blodgharm laughed again gently, nodding back to the queen and bowing slightly to Firnen. "I am glad for your restraint. I do not have time for such pleasantries."

"What do you have time for then? And how is it you moved so quickly across the seas and through the forest?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Before Eragon left, instructions were sealed in a chamber that would only open upon such a situation as this arising. I am sworn not to reveal these instructions except that which is necessary to your safety and the protection that you can bring to the world with your power."

"Which is?" She answered with a frown. Eragon seemed to have predicted his incapacitation, and did not trust the queen of the elves with knowledge on how to revert such a situation or help prevent it.

Blodgharm shook his head gently, "How would you have reacted had he said anything? That he was concerned for his return. Without the knowledge of the prophecy, would you really have accepted his measures and concern?"

Arya opened her mouth to affirm her response, but a mental nudge from Firnen stopped her. _Really? _His deep equivalent of a scoff pulled her short. If she was being honest, she could still barely consider the idea that Eragon was fallible. He had defeated Galbatorix, shades and impossible odds, it was barely comprehensible for him to consider defeat.

_He continues to surprise, does he not? _Firnen hummed gently.

"Do not be overly concerned for Eragon's secrecy. None but he, Saphira and myself knew of the plan; although both rider and dragon recognised that anger and sorrow may limit their reason should such a calamity occur."

Calming herself, Arya relented, gesturing towards the city and beginning to walk. Once Blodgharm strode beside her, she spoke quietly as they walked lightly over the forest floor. "What did he wish to say to me?"

The gentle sounds of the forest around them filled the space between her question and Blodgharm's response. Arya absorbed it all, listing all the birds she heard in the ancient tongue. It was an exercise Oromis had taught her long ago to relax and embrace the world.

"The full set of advice is rather long winded, detailing which response to employ, however its abbreviated version is that enough time is spent in council's debating points that had no use in our world." Blodgharm looked away, as if embarrassed.

"Is that it?" she asked incredulously.

"That is what he said you would need to hear. However you should also note that the two dwarves flew south merely a few days ago. Their people are under attack, and are ready to protect the land from which they came."

_He is right. _Firnen joined the conversation gleefully. _We have sharpened our claws for too long, let us use them in the destruction of our enemies. _Blodgharm turned back to them and laughed at the analogy, while Arya continued to walk silently, running her hands along the branches of nearby trees.

"Is he, and are you, not bias?"

It was only a subtle change, but she knew the wrong thing had been spoken. Fur bristling slightly, Blodgharm's gaze darkened. "Yes, we are bias. But I am a realist. His wisdom has not been idle for nine years discussing elven politics. He may not understand the intricacies of love to the full, but Eragon Kingkiller is competent in many ways. Eragon's power far outmatches yours, or ours, or any of the apprentices. I cannot speak for Murtagh Morzansson, but unless if he too trained against the wild females for nine years..." He trailed off meaningfully, not needing to elaborate on which females her referred.

Arya stopped, her head whipping to face Blodgharm. "What?!" she breathed. Female dragons were notoriously dangerous, even to the riders. To 'train' with them was paramount to casting a spell without words, it was unheard of.

The blue elf merely shrugged and continued walking in the direction of Ellesmera at a slower pace to allow her to catch up with dignity. As they drew closer, familiar scenes passed them, the outlying huts of the city high above them.

"The city has not changed with time or sleep." Blodgharm said quietly after they greeted one of the elves from high in the canopy. Arya frowned, thinking on her return with Eragon, before Thorn, before Dauthdarts and before Firnen. The city had been just as she remembered, and liked.

"It is nice." she defended, but the guardian appeared to have not heard.

"Everything the elven race does, they do slowly. In the nine years since our departure, I have seen and been part of greater change than which occurred for three hundred years prior."

_It is what scares you most, is it not? _Firnen asked gently, neither pushing nor accepting a non-response.

With a start Arya realised it was that which scared her. Change. With that thought came the reminder of the conclusion to Angela's prophecy.

"Look closely at this bone. You can see how its end rests on that of the sailing ship. That is impossible to understand. Your fate will be to leave this land forever."

* * *

**A/N: **Just a few cliffhangers?

Let me know what you think, this chapter is a bit jumbled (in terms of POV and all that). I'm hoping the next few updates won't take as long as this, so fingers crossed.


	22. Chapter 22: Preview

**A/N:** Back?! I am truly sorry for the length of time it has taken me to update. I have no proper excuse, except for prioritising other parts of my life over this story.

This is a preview of chapter 22, which should actually have a couple of rather fun bits once complete. No spoilers though, you'll have to wait (hopefully not so long this time).

* * *

A slight smile tilted the edges of the queen's lips upwards. The contrast of the two councils she had attended of late was barely comprehensible, each was so different to the other. Whereas the elven lords had muttered quietly, bickering amongst themselves, the attendees of this private meeting were quiet and tense; their thoughts and opinions private, for now.

Upon her return to Tialdari Hall with Blogdharm, Murtagh and Roran had demanded a meeting of leaders within minutes of each other. Both had argued that the inner circle of elven leaders be excluded, as it was to be a meeting of shurtugalar and their immediate counsellors. Firnen had snorted one word upon Roran's departure from the hall. Genetic.

And so they sat around a hastily formed circular table, the gurgle of the river giving background to their thoughts. No race was excluded, and none sat as groups. Roran had conceded leadership to Murtagh with an understanding nod, while Arya merely smiled at Eragon's brother, finally accepting the mantle of power.

The dark haired rider grimaced at her smile, rolling his grey eyes at the nudge Nasuada gave him. Something had transpired between the two, both calmer and more at ease. Yet she sensed an urgency in their eyes, a need for action to be taken.

_It is not unwise to desire haste when those we care for are endangered._ Firnen voiced deep within her mind, his bass tones echoing among the song of her own thoughts.

_Aye, and we shall not allow their haste to fester, partner of my soul_. She replied with a smile, even as she remembered seeing her leader trapped in the dungeons of Teirm.

Quiet thuds drew the elf with midnight hair back to the present, visions scattering with the landing of three dragons, their scales glimmering in the sun.

_It is time_. Saphira said, blue tongues of flame licking her teeth as Selender and Morrkan landed, their riders dismounting neatly. As one they sat quietly, exuding a power and confidence Arya was sure she did not replicate.

Without pause, Murtagh stood, waiting for the mutterings to pass. One by one, members of each major race drew silent, save for the rhythmic click of Angela's needles. After a moment, the head rider cleared his throat gently, looking pointedly at the herbalist. Unrepentant, wool was threaded, intricate patterns formed from seemingly repetitive actions. Looking uncomfortable, the red rider straightened his belt, Zar'roc rustling in its sheath as he cleared his throat loudly.

Arya glanced down, hiding the smile threatening the tips of her lips. A low rumble from Saphira betrayed her allegiance, while Dahzgra glared at the other elven, human and Urgal representatives, his eyes daring them to laugh at the angry blush on Murtagh's cheeks.

"If you require a tonic or remedy for a feverish throat, I can offer either." Angela said, eyes never leaving the needles wielded by hand. "However neither will help rescue your leader, for which I believe you called this council."

Murtagh glared, and perhaps would have responded harshly had Nasuada's hand not rested on his arm. Roran rolled his eyes next to the couple, surprising himself with the inner calm he felt. Dathedr looked to Ismira, winking in amusement at the young rider restraining her simultaneous annoyance and laughter.

Standing tall, Arya smiled gently at Angela, a glance toward the lead rider silencing him gently. It was no longer the place for petty squabbles, but the riders would need lights to brighten their shadowed world.

_We must be seen as leaders amongst men, dwarf, elf and the races. The shurtugal shall not leave their own to stumble. _Arya rebroadcast her thoughts to the riders and dragons around the table.

"Thank you Angela, it is apt that we laugh in the dark times, for it is needed most at these. However, Murtagh has expressed a number of ideas to myself and others, to which we believe action can be taken quickly. It would not be wise to linger." Twisting her hand over her chest in respect and apology, Arya bowed slightly.

_That was well said. Thank you green-eyes. My rider may never flounder with a sword, but words escape him sometimes._ Thorn's melodic voice rolled through her mind, his red snout dipping in thought as Arya sat once more.

_You have grown little one. Eragon would be glad to see your actions._ Saphira shuffled in pleasure, excitement budding in her eyes. The thought of finally rescuing her rider energised her, nerves obviously firing.

_What actions?_ Arya asked gently, allowing Murtagh to summarise of their knowledge of Eragon's capture and residing location.

_Any action, Queen of the fair, that was considered as a rider, and not a queen. It is a sign of the change my own little one saw before he was taken. You will be a wise and powerful shurtugal._

Firnen's snort at Saphira's words stung Arya's pride. Yet the truth of statement clung to her, the acknowledgment that she was starting anew, a rider. Just a rider. The irony of the three words made her smile as she focused on the council's machinations. Dahlia was glaring at Angela along with Vanir and William, who had remained largely silent. Angela was bristling at the trio, her erratic features fearsome in her fury.

Sneering the witch barely spat, "Well get on with it, less the snagli catch us dozing." Arya raised a brow at the reference, having only heard briefly of the strange creatures from Eragon's tale.

"Dare speak to the Elven ambassador in such a manner again witch - " Dahlia roared, lowering her horns slightly.

"These poison words stop now!" Dazhgra roared, his head skyward and neck exposed. The argument stopped immediately. "Dahlia, our race owe the Mooneater more than most. Do not assume ones helplessness by their looks." As if on cue, and seemingly from nowhere, Ismira appeared behind the young trio, her bow aimed squarely at Dahlia.

"This is wrong." The young rider whispered, her voice carrying despite her efforts. "My Uncle, Eragon Kingkiller and Shadeslayer, is captured. Our best hope is to free him, yet you squabble here like the Elven leaders.

Dathedr did not smile at her words, but his eyes shone in respect for the eldest Stronghammer child even as he shook his head at William's actions. Roran smiled in pride at his eldest daughter and her ability to capture a room, mere moments after leaving her seat without anyone noticing.

Arya frowned at William, her displeasure mirrored by her dragon. "Dahlia, Vanir and William. There is an old human saying that says if you can't say anything helpful, don't say it at all. If you cannot refrain from your opinions please allow us to continue without you. Ambassador Vanir, Will; Lord Dathedr will speak with you later about these transgressions."

Murtagh nodded his thanks, looking around for any questions or challenges. "Thank you Arya, Ismira and Dazhgra, those are wise words to remember. As Angela was saying and Roran was alluding to I believe, Teirm is built to defend an attack from the ground."

"But not the air." Nasuada finished softly, looking pointedly at the five dragons in attendance. Blodgharm smiled a sharp smile, nodding to Arya as one thought crossed her mind to Firnen, jarring her senses with the complexity and simplicity of a single statement.

_This is where we should be. With the riders._

* * *

**A/N: **I promise this wont be a chapter of Arya development. Had enough of that for a while. I expect some Eragon action. The dwarves will get a look-in. And the council will wrap up with a plan. Not sure yet whether you to see the entire plan yet thought. Have to decide.

As always your reviews are most welcome. Especially if there are things you want to see more of, less of, or improved.


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